


Self Preservation

by burlesque_articulation



Series: Cataclysm [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anyways, BLBB 2017, Canon-Typical Violence, Dahl Corporation, Gen, Hyperion Corporation, Implied Torture, LetPickleSayFuck2K17, also the plot picks up after the end bl2 to give you a feel for the timeline, canon was kind of blah so i made my own canon, eridium poisoning, gratitious detail of the functionality of Elpus fungi & mushroom, i also made myself cry on numerous occasions, just like a little sprinkle of it, kraggons, like a touch of powdered sugar over cupcakes, like having identity issues, mentions of eridium experimentation, should also note that theres two storylines going on, slight gore, so some tags apply to storyline a but not b and vice versa, stalkers, storyline a is pickle's and storyline b is Tim's, that's a tag for storyline b, universe alteration (i guess??), vault shenanigans, with weird science and world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-10 08:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 76,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesque_articulation/pseuds/burlesque_articulation
Summary: "Bad things will happen and good things too. Your life will be full of surprises. Miracles happen only where there has been suffering. So taste your grief to the fullest. Don't try and press it down. Don't hide from it. Don't escape. It is life too. It is truth. But it will pass and time will put a strange honey in the bitterness. That's the way life goes." - Ben OkriDavis Pickle, once the face of Elpis' resistance against the tyranny of Hyperion, is believed dead. Has been for the last four years; and he knows it. But even watching the fall of Helios firsthand does little to convince him to seek out old friends and have his explanation for abandonment be heard. A promise to a dear friend remains stronger than even his own instincts, until remaining stuck in place is no longer an option and he finds himself placed elsewhere. Far below the moon's surface, to be exact.Timothy Lawrence, far from a free man, and struggling to rebuild a moon torn apart by his predecessor, had long given up the small sliver of hope that an old partner in anti-Hyperion crime was still alive. But rumours find him in Concordia, as well as Dahl's sudden re-interest in the scarred moon.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so firstly first, big ol' thanks to my beta. Who was 2/3 wildcherrylime on tumblr and 1/3 my mum who probably is just glad I'm finally done with this so I stop talking about it. Which is fair.
> 
> Anyhow, another huge thanks to the artists of the artwork that appears in fic, plintoon.tumblr.com & sidepac.tumblr.com
> 
> You are all the absolute best!!!

 

“ _Do not go gentle into that good night,_

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._ ”

\- Dylan Thomas -

**\--*--*--**

**Nearly a d** ecade had passed by since the Drakensberg had seen its glory days, and then only a handful of years since it had been repurposed by the Bosun as a scav hangout. Of course now it was nothing more than an eerily silent wreck of metal and flickering screens, seemingly devoid of all life aside from the occasional surge of excess power; not that that really counted as life either. Honestly, ever since the Vault of the Sentinel had been opened, and a certain someone rose to power within Hyperion, a lot of Elpis was quieter.

But the price of survival on this Elpis was to cut off everyone and anyone you once knew in hopes of extending your own life, and that they wouldn't come after yours. That was something Davis Pickle learned the hard way some four years ago; he wasn't one for making the same mistakes twice anymore. But he couldn't deny that he missed the excitement of his old life- the one before the Vault. Being chased around by scavs and lunatics, defacing posters of himself, and the quiet times when he would just stop and look at the stars. He didn't do that anymore; even going so far as to clear out small side passages in the underbelly of the Drakensberg, to make sure that there was no way any drones would have a chance to catch sight of him.

The Drakensberg, for better or for worse, was his home- and prison, now. As long as he was out of sight, hiding within where the security system was still active, he was safe. He did think of venturing out, but fear was a powerful motivator for inaction. The only form of comfort he allowed himself lately, were ECHOs.

“ECHOmessage to Janey Springs,” he commanded the control panel in front of him, waiting for the system to jog itself into rhythm.

“ _Link cannot be est-_ **_est_ ** _-established at this time. Record mess_ **_age_ ** _anyways-s-s?_ ”

“Yeah- er, _yes_.” The real downside to having an interactive console, use proper pronunciation or have your commands ignored.

There was a moment's pause followed by a solid beep. “ _Message begins,_ ” 

 

Exhaling slowly, he started, “hullo, Springs! I know, uh, you won't be gettin this, what wif’ the disruption sensors still being around Elpis an’ all, but hey, worth a shot, eh? I mean, one ‘o these days, somethin is gonna get through, and then you can tell me all about Pandora; and hey, you went there with that Athena, didn’t’cha? Hope you two are still goin strong. Oh yeah, and I know I bring this up a lot but sorry again about your ‘Emporium o’ Stuff’. That and, uh, your old place- not _old_ -old place, that other one.” Pickle paused to laugh despite himself, “I was, uh, I was set up there for while actually, me an’ a mate, back… way back, y’know- well you _don't_ know, but before- anyways, uh... It's blown to shit. My mate’s brown bread dead too, may he burn in the darkest part of hell. But yeah, I, uh…”

 

 

Leaning against the console, he sighed again, continuing in a much quieter voice, “I just hope you're doin good, doin better than this. It’s just… it’s not good ‘ere, I don't know what to do anymore… everyone’s gone an’ I just, I _just…_

“Sorry, sorry, I, uh, I shouldn't be putting this on you, ya probably got problems of your own, eh? Heh, well maybe I’ll hear about ‘em someday. But ‘til then, hope ya hang in there, Janey. End of Message.”

 

 

“ _Message en-_ **_en_ ** _-ended. Would you like to add to queue to_ **_be_ ** _sent when a link-ink-_ **_ink_ ** _can be established?_ ”

“No."

“ _Would you like to archive?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Message_ **_ad_ ** _ded to arch_ **_ives_ ** _. You now have one hundred s-_ **_s_ ** _-seventy-six messages in your archive._ **_Wo_ ** _-wo-would you like to create another message-age-_ **_age_ ** _?_ ”

 

 

“No. Thank you.”

No further response came from the computer- it only functioned on a set algorithm after all- and Pickle wasn't nearly tech-savvy enough to make it more… life-like. Pulling his ECHO from the console he clipped it to his hip and synced the visor of his helmet once again. As usual, he felt himself wondering why he continued to bother with making these ECHOs for someone who would never get them anyways. The last time he’d even gotten an ECHO through to Pandora was _years_ ago. If things hadn't changed in that time, what was the point in still believing.

After the opening of the Vault, Elpis had changed and so many had hoped for the better with Hyperion bringing an end to the Lost Legion. Unfortunately, it seemed like all that had happened was one evil being vanquished in the name of another; to put it poetically. The first year had actually gone pretty swell, honestly, lulling most of the citizens of Elpis into a sense of false security. People from all across the moon were invited via broadcast over the ECHOnet to lead more civilized lives in Concordia or other settlements that were advertised as havens from the scav-infested tundras. The wording of the invitation alone should have given them pause. And for some it did, and may those poor souls rest some where peaceful now.

Of course, Pickle hadn't really taken an interest in a quiet life, but he did visit often when most of his clientele had moved in. Being the scamp that he was, he had immediately set up a network of exits that went completely under the radar, sharing a few of the routes with other sellers of questionable loot, but he mostly kept the safer routes to himself. It made a sort of image for him that most of his buyers found endearing; they way he could pop up out of seemingly no where.

It seemed obvious now that something had been up from the get-go. What with most of those that settled over from Hyperion being from military backgrounds, identity cards being a must (oh it's just so that we can keep tabs on the expanding population! Yeah, _riiiight_ ), there were a lot of signs that should have been glaringly obvious. Then, with the start of the second year, Elpis had been put under complete lockdown. The disruption sensors were in effect, stopping anyone from trying to reach out for external help, and with most of Elpis catalogued made all too easy for Hyperion to put the Elpians under a magnifying glass to decide who would live to see the new “ Utopia” they planned to turn Elpis into. It wasn't even that long before entire settlements that hadn’t received the Hyperion Seal of Approval were being wiped out en-masse. A testament to the power Hyperion hoped to perfect on Elpis before making use of it on Pandora to clear the planet of its own bandit problem. That was how they lost Deirdre. And all of Theta.

It took time, but eventually the rate of people mysteriously missing was investigated as well. And the answers that yielded lead them to the Eridium Labs, the shiny new facilities that were popping up across Elpis. And then there were those who were given ultimatums; they could turn on their own and help track down Hyperion’s Most Wanted in exchange for their own lives. Eliza had been among that category. And since Pickle had been near the top of the most wanted list, it didn't surprise him now that they’d sent someone after him- it did surprise him that Eliza had _volunteered_ to do it. But to get into that later, Pickle had joined a ragtag team of anti-Hyperion extremists from the beginning. Being young and foolish, he’d thought it had been all good fun, using every trick up his sleeve to bust people out of the lower levels of Concordia and de-railing transports. At the age of 12, he even agreed to become the face of the resistance against the corporation. Considering by that point the real mastermind behind most of the anti-work was a Hyperion that suffered from the unfortunate condition of looking exactly like the evil CEO. Not that Pickle had ever really been the best at taking orders though.

But the warning of his sister's true intentions had come a moment too late, and Eliza had already swindled her little brother into following her to where she swore Hyperion was holding mate of his; and they were, only the catch was that his friend had been in on it from the start. Happy sweet 13, little brother.

Pickle didn't really know what had happened to everyone during that year, and he honestly tried to forget what had happened to him. But when he did finally make it back to the Drakensberg, he found it abandoned, and not even trace of anyone having been there in quite sometime. Which had been, well, perfectly fine by him. During that time in his life, all he could have wanted was to be alone with a thousand guns and enough artillery it blow up an entire city. Made him feel _cozy_.

Of course, he hadn't been entirely alone as he fortified the battered ship considerably in the first few months, reworking the security system so that it would only ever recognize him as friend and anyone, _absolutely anyone_ , else as foe. There were still many times when he had awoke screaming, convinced they had left him alone- or that they had never been real in the first place. But as long as he stayed hidden away aboard the Drakensberg, they always came back to him, sometimes they would talk with each other every passing day; sometimes he was trapped with months of silence.

They always got back to him. Until the day they couldn’t, and he was alone.

That was when he started to try frequencies, after months of knowing no one was there for him anymore, he needed to hear someone else’s voice. It was then that he heard that it wasn't all for nothing.

The fall of Handsome Jack had come. Since it was meant to be the CEO’s glorious victory against the scum of Pandora, it had been broadcasted live on every network, every station, so that every citizen under Hyperion rule, every hiding scav, lunatic, or terrified grifter could watch second hand. But the only thing they saw was Handsome Jack meet his much deserved end.

And that started the first real battle against Hyperion. Pickle couldn't remember the last time he had cried out of _joy_ , but for a solid month he couldn't have felt more relieved, and he very nearly reached out to give aid, but he a promised didn’t he? He promised to stay safe, and hidden away. And whether he was taking the promise too literally or not didn't matter when in the midst of fighting a broadcast tower had been knocked down and Pickle was wrapped in radio silence, cut off from it all.

To that end, he tried to learn to be content with knowing that Elpis had fought, that Handsome Jack had fallen, and that he, Davis Pickle, was still alive, despite it all.

Or rather, in spite of it all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art featured in this chapter courtesy of plintoon.tumblr.com !


	2. Something More

> _"Growth is painful. Change is painful._

**_But nothing is as painful as staying stuck_ **

_somewhere you don't belong."_

\- Mandy Hale -  


  
  
**Pickle had n** ever been one for guns, but he never went anywhere anymore without at least one loaded pistol and a belt of grenades, worn like a sash over one shoulder so he could always feel the comfort of their weight. In the long run it seemed silly since the Drakensberg hadn't had an incident in almost half a year- he'd even taken to keeping a tally in what was left of the mess hall. "157 Days Since Last Incident," read a sign in perfectly neat writing. He considered the fact that he found this amusing meant he was losing a bit of himself; however, since he recognized this fact, he probably hadn't gone too far.  
  
Humming the tune of a song he couldn't fully recall, Pickle waved a hand in front of a sensor, the door to Colonel Zarpedon's old quarters sliding open with a bit of effort. The room now served as a sort of library where Pickle kept all sorts of ECHOs, tablets, manuals, and even some genuine paper reports. Originally is was meant to be a room specifically for sleeping or just relaxing in, but he never exactly relaxed and when he did manage to sleep it was mostly just a handful of hours tucked into a crawlspace where the fluctuations of power through the wires and pipes were more than likely to cover his own heat signature. That and the place had become pretty cluttered up.  
  
The full details of everything Dahl had been doing up until the Crackening were what took up most of the desk and a whole shelving unit, followed by system manuals, records of personnel- both from the ship itself and others that had been like it. For the longest time Pickle had contented himself with learning as much as he could about the technology around him and how he could best utilize it, taking particular interest in the old AI chamber when looking over the schematics of the ship and finding that the core had been equipped with an ejection option. Of course after a time Pickle had taken to reading over some of the old reports too. No point in wasting good reading material.  
  
But right now he wasn't interested in any of that, he was actually just trying to find his tool belt. And after a couple more minutes of searching he found it hanging up against the wall, in probably the most obvious place. "Jus' my luck," he muttered, clipping it in place around his waist. Carefully moving back along the small patch of floor that wasn't cluttered up (yet) he paused at the door, something on the desk catching his eye.  
  
It was probably the only thing he had left of his old (old, old) life. A dusty and faded framed picture of him, barely 9, his mum and dad, and even Eliza. They'd all been wearing bright smiles, except Eliza, who was caught in the middle of an eye roll because Pickle had just been _so_ happy to get a picture of all four them together.  
  
He liked to pretend the background hadn't faded out; that the skies of Elpis still sprawled out behind their heads in the picture. But that wasn't true; the background had dulled so much it looked like they had been standing in front if a dingy wall for the photo. The starry view was the reason the photo even existed, which was the worst part in his opinion. Their first day on Elpis, Pickle had insisted on having a photograph to commemorate it.  
  
He missed the stars. It had been so long since he'd seen them, or even Elpis, now. When was the last time he looked up and saw Pandora? Or looked out across Elpis? Did it all look the same? The seemingly endless tundra of moon that eventually would cut off into raging seas of lava and rock, or expanses of ice that'd freeze you if you even so much as tapped a foot against it. Was Helios still up there, dominating the starry skies above? What about the clusters of colourful gas that stretched out across the noiseless spaces, so far away and full of mystery; did they still twinkle with billions of stars and wisps of smoke-like wonders?  
  
"No, no, don't look at me like that, mum, what if a drone passes by while I’m out there? Then what? _No_." Yet still, the picture of Elu Pickle continued to smile peacefully at him. Yes it was just a picture, he knew that, but honestly. "It ain't worth it. I've lasted this long, I don't need to go out there now and risk it all."  
  
Even as he said this, his eyes travelled over to where Eliza's face was, in mid eyeroll. "No, no, you do not get a say, just all of you. No. Oh just- yes, yeah I'm talkin to a damn photograph, I've gone and lost my wooden bed, head." He grumbled, heading out of the room with haste.  
  
But no matter how far he got, he couldn't outrun his own thoughts. And so the entire walk to the Skipper's old chambers his mind buzzed with ideas. _Dumb_ _ideas_.  
  
_Well I 'ave been workin on that new suit, and there ain't been no drone activity that the system's picked up on..._ The suit in question was something he'd had in the works for awhile now- see, the drones worked mainly through heat-seeking, so about two years ago Pickle started working on a suit based on the cryo elements of the naturally occurring cryo vines that would perfectly obscure his body heat; but since he hadn't had any cryo vines around he instead took what he could from various cryo barrels and synthesized it into a liquid solution that was then integrated into the suit...  
  
Pickle groaned, running a hand down his visor before shaking his head. "I 'aven't even tested it yet," he argued. With _himself_.  
  
With a little shimmy, he slipped into a crawlspace, traversing it slowly on hands and knees until he made it about 18 meters to a grate, which he gave a push and plopped out. Slamming the grate back he looked around, checking to see the blast doors were still firmly in lockdown. And just like any other one, they were. Even the windows had been blocked up entirely, along with some of the cracks that had happened in the bulk of the ship; but that had been done way back in the day when the Drakensberg had been an outpost for the anti-Hyperion extremists. Well, Hyperion called them ' _extremists_ ', Pickle honestly thought maybe they hadn't been nearly as extreme as they should have been.  
  
He briefly considered using the lift to get down to the next level, but decided against it- it would make too much unnecessary noise. Instead he located the next crawl space that would take him down just fine. Pickle continued along in the vent, essentially cutting out a lot of turning about to get exactly where he wanted to be. He dropped down out of the vent into a side room where he made use of the old weapon's crate in it for; well, holding more weapons.

One step out of the side room, and he was officially in the Skipper's old chambers. It was probably the brightest room left on the Drakensberg, even though the AI Core had been removed quite some time ago, the columns still hummed and shone, brimming with data that Pickle couldn't even begun to think of how to access.  
  
But he liked to think the AI, Felicity, was still in there somewhere. Even though she'd named herself something else, Pickle still thought it fitting that he kept this room's name the same. It was complicated to explain it; but it didn't feel right calling to anything else, calling it Felicity's Chamber seemed like an insult to her memory when she deserved so much more than what she had actually gotten. Getting to the main console in the room, he paused to remove his helmet, his hair falling all the way down to just above his shoulders in a mess of locks.   
  
Waking the computer up with a couple taps, he commanded a full scan of the perimeter. While the computer processed, he reached into one of his current suit's many pockets for a hair tie, trying his best to get it as neatly divided as he started to braid it to the side, his fingers working in the memorized pattern in a flurry so that he was finished just before the computer came back to him.   
  
" _Scan complete. There is nothing out there, absolutely nothing. Not a damn thing. Just like with every other scan for the last 158 days. Stop being such a paranoid little-_ Ohhhh- _kay_ , so that was fake, the computer never said any of that. Except for the first part. The scan actually was complete. And yeah, surprise, surprise, there was nothing out of the ordinary.   
  
Blowing a raspberry at the machine, he told himself to shut up and went to work on his makeshift escape pod; which had become quite the large-scale project for him- even more so than tinkering with the cryo suit. And it was something that definitely took priority over fresh air. Which he didn't need.   
  
And alternative route of escape? He needed that. To risk everything just to see some stars? He didn't need that. Not even a little bit. Nope.

 

* * *

  
  
Pickle stood awkwardly looking over himself in one of the more reflective monitor screens, smoothing down the folds of his upgraded suit. His _other_ suit. One he hadn't worn since he got aboard thr Drake and found another that had fit him better at the time. Now though, with a couple more years on him, this suit fit snugly enough, but he still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. Sure, it fit, but it just felt... off.  He brushed it off that this was due to the fact that he could feel the cryo solution through the fabric of the suit. Palpable underneath his fingertips as he ran his hands across his sides, feeling the gel-like substance squish and move around. It was damn strange. And cold. But after a quick scan from the Drakensberg's systems, he found that the suit certainly did it's job. He was completely hidden on the scan, despite standing in the more open area of the ship.   
  
"I still ain't going out there." He muttered, to his reflection. "I mean, I could... But... I don't know... I promised, didn't I? Promised I'd stay safe, now didn't I." He was babbling at this point, just to hear the sound of someone's voice, even if it was just his own.   
  
Pathetic, that was. Promising to stay safe didn't equate to this, did it? Taking precaution- being careful- that was staying safe, wasn't it? He had no idea anymore. He ordered the system to do a scan of the surrounding area as he headed off towards the Library, linking his helmet's visor to the ship's interface so he didn't have to continue standing in the same place. The scan came back with no sign of any kind of activity, as per usual for the last 159 days. Empty, barren of life, kind of like the Drakensberg itself.   
  
Pickle paused in one of the side passages, leaning against the cold steel as his head swam for a moment, the world spinning out of order. _Not this again_ . He forgot for a moment about his helmet as he tried running his hands through his hair. It irked him something awful to always have to go through the same song and dance whenever that feeling hit him out of no where.   
  
Removing his helmet, he put his back to the wall, sliding down into a sitting position and putting his head between his knees as he closed his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning. The weight in his chest grew as he slowly breathed in and out, willing the feeling of unease to pass sooner rather than later. Despite the fact that these spells had been coming more frequently, they seemed to pass quicker- only a handful of minutes and he was able to breathe easy again.   
  
He tilted his head back against the passage wall, frown deepening the lines on his young face as his eyebrows curved in to make for a particularly unhappy expression.   
  
Pickle's jaw clenched for a moment before he let out a long breath, allowing his countenance to relax, along with most of the tension in his shoulders to let go. "I really shouldn't go out there, though." He mumbled to himself, retrieving his helmet off the floor beside him before pushing himself back to his feet.   
  
His vision blurred again, but at least he knew the cause for that. Waiting for the black dots to fade, and the dizziness to subside, he set off again, his mind not even giving him proper time to recover from the light-headedness. _What do I have to lose anymore? As far as I know,_ _everyone's gone. Or dead_ . (his mind really had no reason to sugarcoat things) _There's just me now, isn't there?_   
  
It stung to admit that, but on the other hand, he did have a good point. Scans had been negative for activity for months now, he knew the Drakensberg inside-out, and the security system itself was more than capable of dealing with any unwanted guests. And- and for goodness sake, he said he'd stay safe- not that he'd stay inside the Drakensberg 'til he finally kicked off. Even though that was probably what _they_ had meant by ‘ _stay safe_.’

_Oh, don't fink like that now..._

Slipping into a shoot, he popped out the other end, just meters from the Library, still fighting back and forth with himself (there really wasn't anyone else to fight with after all). Pickle stood in front of the Library's door, finally stuck with wondering why he'd even come back this way. He could have sworn he meant to go to the Skipper's Chamber... He bit his lip, peeking over his shoulder to look down the way to a darkened part of the ship. Ah, perhaps _that_ was why he'd come this way.   
  
He moved with slow, deliberate steps towards the huge gap where the ship had nearly been torn completely in half when it had crashed onto the moon's surface near enough a decade ago. Of course, back when the resistance-of-sorts had been using the wreck's remains as an outpost, they'd poorly patched up the cracks and holes with whatever they could get their hands on. And after Pickle had made his return to the wreck a year after the rebellionist's had abandoned the place, he had rerouted most of the power and disconnected the jump pad.   
  
Pickle had conserved a large amount of power when he'd done that. Not that the Drakensberg was anywhere near running out of juice since the old scav group that had been lead by the Bosun had learned how to repurpose the lava flowing beneath the ship into a reusable energy source. As it were, they all might have gone off the deep-end; but a few had still managed to keep a grip on their intelligence. That being said, they were all dead, so that didn't really matter much now.   
  
So now Pickle stood with his helmet tucked under his arm, staring out across the quiet expanse of untouched ship, dust hanging thick in the air. Light from the side he stood on casted eldritch shadows on the silent metal that still creaked now and again as the ship still tried to settle itself. All Pickle needed to do was send a ping to the computer system and the entire area across from him could hum to life. But for now, the only thing using power was a single console that held a blast door shut. And the only way to that was up a busted lift.   
  
Eyeing the jump pad at his feet, he tapped the toe of his boot against the disconnected wires. A corner of his mouth curled up as he remembered way back when the anti-Hyperion gang had loosely considered building a makeshift bridge between the two parts of the ship- but the idea had been cut down because so many of them had strong feelings about their jump pads. His smile turned bittersweet as it crossed his mind that all of them were probably dead now. Or worse.   
  
With that sobering thought in mind, pulled his helmet back over his head, knelt down,   
and reconnected the wires. The jump pad hummed to life in seconds, the light's behind his back flickering only slightly before settling back into their constant glow. "Computer-" his voice cracked slightly, so he cleared his throat. "Computer, activate the power in section C-37 of the Drakensberg."   
  
"Comma **nd** \- _d-d_ requires a- _a-a_ level 5 _c-c_ -cle **aran** ce. Autho **riza** tion?" The system's voice crackled through his headset, glitching at random intervals.   
  
"Oh, right... Ah," he cleared his throat again, "Authorization: Davis Pickle. Override passcode: _Eliza2 dash 75_ ."   
  
There was a tangible pause. "Aut **hori** zation _e-e-_ **_x_ ** **ce** pted." And in a heartbeat, sparks snapped through the air as energy started to surge through to the other side of the ship, only going as far as the area before him, and as far as the blast door above that.   
  
Swallowing his fear and undeniable anticipation, he stepped onto the green-glowing pad, and felt his entire body being pulled out from under him, tossed quite literally to the other side, where he landed with little grace, the butterflies in his stomach still fluttering even after he'd taken a few steps away from where he'd landed. From there he practically stumbled towards the shaft that lead to his destination. He stood at the centre of the inactive, completely busted, lift, neck craned as he looked up to pick out a reasonable course to take to get himself up the shaft. With a starting point in mind, he crouched low before jumping up, making use of the low gravity on this side of the wrecked ship combined with the use of one of his OZ kits to boost himself up to where he could grab hold of a red bar. Pickle immediately pushed off from there, using his OZ kit for another boost, until eventually he'd pinged himself all the way up the shaft where he landed on one knee, palms down and breathing heavily.   
  
Steadying himself back up on his feet, he eyed they tightly sealed airlock for a moment, before checking his HUD to see how much oxygen his OZ kit still maintained. A decent enough amount that if he wanted he could just jump back down the lift, boost himself over the crack and back into known safety. Alternatively, he had more than enough to last him until the blast door opened and he (those bubble things that make oxygen; he'd start up one of those or w/e leave my brain alone it's tired). It was actually rather ironic really, that the one door that had given him the most trouble to close, was now the one he planned on reopening.   
  
Walking over to the main console on this level, he made sure his HUD was properly linked with the ship's interface before he gave the command for the door to be opened. Just this one. His hands moved across the console, touching the screen here and there as he made a manual check of the Drakensberg's surrounding area. A few kraggon's were picked up just north of where he was, but they were far enough below his location that they weren't likely to even notice him. Before he could think of any other precautions to take, the rusty grind of the airlock sliding open pricked his ears as the command finally filtered through the aged wiring. Pickle didn't turn around immediately, even after the door had opened completely and the light from outside flushed through, bathing everything before it in a cool natural glow of distant sunlight. He rather thought his heart would be trying to hammer its way out of his chest, but instead his heart was beating a steady rhythm, and he appreciated that. Pickle turned, raising an arm to shield his eyes from the near-foreign glare of light, until he remembered his visor was tinted.   
  
Stepping over the threshold, his eyes adjusting to the glare, and he was genuinely surprised by the view that greeted him. Looking out over the moon's surface, he found it no different than how he remembered it. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but endless tundra, with wafts of mist and fog rolling over the tops of the higher blue and light pink tinted peaks. With the help of his visor he could even pick out a few man-made structures, far out among the rock and ice. Beyond that, he raised his face to the dark sky, swallowing thickly as stars spread out above him endlessly. He nearly laughed as he moved further from the open door, turning around in an almost dazed spin, which was cut short like he'd been run through with a steel knife. Ever bit of his attention and focus was now upon the looming Helios Space Station. Although he could truly glimpse was a small portion of it, it was more than enough to send his blood running cold through his veins.   
  
Every fibre of his being screamed at him to get back inside, that he'd seen enough, but it was over, it was time to flee back into the safety of his stolen vessel. But he didn't listen.   
  
Completely on what felt like autopilot, he sought out higher ground until he was standing near enough atop the Drakensberg, with a full view of the big H in the sky and Pandora beside it. Both seemingly as empty and desolate as the moon around him. What had he expected? Why was he so shocked to see the station still there? As long as there were Vaults to be found and eridium to be mined, Hyperion would never leave orbit. With or without Jack to call the shots.   
  
Pickle's HUD flickered across his visor as he made the system's do another scan of the area. Content to find that even the kraggon's had lumbered out of range now, he plunked his ass down and allowed himself the joy of looking past the fugly space station (his words, not mine) and soaked up the view of everything else instead. From the still tundra to every detail of Pandora that he could gather from his great distance. A small voice whispered in the back of his head what a stupid, stupid thing he was doing. But Pickle was content to use that as reason to stay longer, to spite the silly voice. That is until his OZ kit started beeping at him. He'd forgotten to activate the air module. So much for staying to enjoy the view. 

 

* * *

 

 It was nearly a month before he finally had the courage to go back out again. "246 Days Since Last Incident," and he found himself in the same spot again, this time laying on his back, keeping Helios just within his peripherals as he contented himself with counting stars, tracing constellations with his eyes, and rooting around through his memory for the names of this and that, which he had once had perfectly memorized. He still kept his system on full alert, even setting it to do automatic scans every ten minutes. From there, it wasn't long before these outings ended up becoming part of his weekly schedule, replacing an hour in the Library with an hour of outside time.

With this development, it was the first time in a very, very, very long time, he started to feel content with where life had taken him again. And with more time, he even got so adventurous once that he began exploring the long abandoned parts of the Drakensberg, coming across all sort of supplies he had been running low on for quite some time. He never bothered to reroute power back into the other side (having always kept the security measures in all the ship in full supply), actually preferring to poke around in the darkened corners and passages with nothing but the light provided by his helmet and a gun in hand; all the while knowing perfectly well that he wouldn't come across anything or anyone. He really had forgotten how much he loved the thrill of exploration.  
  
Eventually Pickle had to cut these particular excursions from his schedule, after having to cut one too many trips short when the shadows had begun to play unpleasant tricks on his mind that had sent him into a frenzy. The last thing he needed was to waste bullets on corpses. But aside from that, things were blissful aboard the Drakensberg, almost enough so that Pickle could ignore the growing sense of unease that had creeped its way back into his chest and mind.   
  
Things were fine now. What more did he need?   
  
He was comfortably relaxing with his arms behind his head, dozing off under the stars as the sky was darkening, the sun barely peeking out from behind Pandora, when he'd started to batter thoughts like these from his head. Almost as though the feeling were physically manifesting to shoot down his tired protests against the intrusions, Pickle could feel his world spinning, like it had those weeks ago back in the ship. Only this time it felt stronger, like he was falling, even though he was lying perfectly still. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself into a sitting position so he could cradle his head between his knees like he'd done numerous times before. But what was more surprising than even that was how quickly it passed- one moment he swore the moon was going to come up and swallow him whole, and then like that it was gone, his mind blank, but clear.   
  
With an aggravated breath, he let his shoulders relax, running a hand across his helmet, like always, forgetting that he was wearing one. He nearly shouted in irritation when he could feel another tremor begin, until he realized- this one was real.

Beneath him, Elpis had begun to quake.


	3. Helios Descending

_"All I ever wanted was to know what to do."_

_-_ Dave Eggers -

  
  
**Debris fell f** rom the sky, striking Elpis with reverberating blasts as the Hyperion space station seemed to be torn apart from the inside out; that is until Pickle grounded himself enough to activate his HUD to get a better scan on what he'd mistaken for debris. The station wasn't blowing apart at all; those were _escape shuttles._   
  
Fear gnawed away at his insides until all of Helios seemed to shudder like a beam might under too much weight before giving way. Pickle watched with a front-row seat, struck awe, as Helios began its fall from orbit around Elpis towards Pandora; shuttles evacuating from all over the station, most of which crashed into one another in deadly collusions before ever reaching the moon, or the nearby planet for that matter. He was entranced by the spectacle so much he nearly ignored the sudden wailing of emergency alarms.

A sudden weight in his chest, and the taste of bile coating his mouth jolted him out of his trance, and he lept up, full-fledged running toward the way back in, and diving in forcefully before commanding with all haste for the airlock to be closed behind him.  
  
Practically leaping over to the line of control panels just inside the airlock, he booted it up and immediately began relaying commands. "I order a full lockdown. Severity level 5; Authorization, Davis Pickle," he spoke as clearly as he could, hoping the computer wouldn't pick up on the shakiness in his voice and ask him to repeat himself.   
  
"Authorization accepted. Drakensberg is now- now- now in full lockdown. Would you like to- to- to set a timer until lockdown is lifted-d-d?" Came the static response from the mainframe. 

"Lockdown shall proceed until overridden.”  
  
A brief pause that felt like forever proceeded his command until there was a sound that meant the system accepted his command. "Command accepted. Lockdown shall commence until further notice."   
  
"Thank you," Pickle replied out of habit before leaving to collect a few things from the library before continuing on until he reached what was once the Bosun's own personal main area of operations. Even now it was still the most heavily guarded room, save for the Skipper's old chambers. But where the Skipper's chambers had noticeably better defenses, the Bosun's chamber had turrets and could produce a hands-on map of the entire complex.

The sensors had gone off, and Pickle had already wasted enough time; if someone was here, he would find them long before they found him. He just needed to- needed to _focus_ , need… needed…

His breathing became laboured as his full weight fell against the console in front of him, his vision doubling.

 _Leave, go already… don't stay here._ But before Pickle could make sense of the thoughts rushing around in his head, his world went black.   


* * *

  
It wasn't until many hours- perhaps even a full day that Pickle finally regained consciousness. The sensors had been alerted by the movement of a group of kraggons that had been roused from their holes by the ruckus from above; much the opposite to how Pickle had been scared into his by it all. He was able to come to terms with his  blackout, now mocking it up to being because of excess adrenaline in his system due to the spectacle that had occurred above his precious home. His irrational bloodlust aside, he was in truth, positively elated. And after some deep contemplation, he accessed an older part of the ship where he was lucky enough to find an uncovered window, managing to catch enough of a glimpse of the outside to deduce that Helios Space Station was no more.

It had, judging by the lack of destruction to the moon’s surface, right and proper fallen from space and landed somewhere on Pandora. Pickle had no idea why, or how; but that aside, his elation didn't last long as he considered further what this could mean.  
  
Ultimately in a perfect world, it meant two possible things. One; that Hyperion was finished. That Elpis and Pandora alike were now completely and utterly free or, two; the destruction of Helios would bring more Hyperion to this area; the corporation likely seeking vengeance on its fallen space station and bring about even more destruction to the planet and its moon. Either way, Pickle wasn't about to leave the Drakensberg to find out which it would be. He instead had every intention of fortifying his home in every conceivable way possible, completely limiting his access to most of the ship that wasn't the Bosun's main room or the Skipper's chambers. He would collect what he deemed most important from the library, and all of his existing supplies and rations and close himself off in the most secured areas.   
  
What ever came of this descension of Helios, he would be prepared for the worst.

* * *

The self-proclaimed fingersmith had now spent nearly three full years hidden away within the Drakensberg. And now it had officially been two months since Helios had crashed into Pandora. One would think that the lack of nothing happening around him on his sensors would have given him cause to relax just a fraction, but the stillness only managed to make him all the more frantic.

  
Of course, now that his wiggle room had been so greatly decreased, he'd taken to doing a lot more tinkering; such as finding that he'd made his suit completely incapable of being picked up on by his security's sensors. Of course from there he'd begun creating upgrades for his system. Throughout his various tests he was constantly torn between having an invincible security system and being completely undetectable. On one hand, if he'd thought of making a cryo suit to conceal body heat from sensors, someone else might have and could try to use that against his system- but on the other hand, if anyone got a hold of his upgraded system, they'd be able to find him just easily as he'd be able to find them.   
  
Pickle had finally decided he was getting a bit stir crazy and left the entire thing at whatever point each piece was and went to tinker with something else so his mind could calm down. He replaced his time by entering the Skipper's chamber to run some tests on the escape pod located at the very back of the room. The reworked ejection capsule for the long gone AI unit was now a functional escape pod. Or at least would work well enough to get him off the ship and a safe distance away; should need be.   
  
Lately, Pickle’s main focus was enhancing the hydraulics to make up for how much more he assumed he weighed as compared to the AI core so that at most it would eject him a good, reasonable distance away. In theory of course. Oh, and he'd also put in a nice comfortable seat and remarkably sturdy units that could hold a reasonable amount of supplies. He liked to believe he thought of everything, should he ever have to make use of the pod. He still held some resentment toward the idea of leaving of the Drakensberg- even if Helios had crashed on his front doorstep, he still doubted that he would have used the pod.   
  
After a few hours of tinkering with that, Pickle finally found himself walking back to his main room, the hollow echoing sound of his lone footsteps across the floor making his skin crawl and his heart feel heavy. He made it all the way to the main control panel before he finally allowed himself the small comfort of removing his helmet, giving his eyes a break from the constant strain of flickering back and forth between what was in front of him at any given time and whatever it was that was being displayed by his HUD.   
  
Setting his helmet down carefully, he pulled up the complete map of the Drakensberg, putting in a few commands so that if anything changed, the alarms would be alerted and that the map would change to show the movement of the disruptions. And with that done, Pickle found himself sliding down to the floor until his back was resting against the console with his knees drawn to either side and his head in his hands.   
After a few long breaths, Pickle finished running his fingers through his hair and laid his head back against the quietly humming console, and resting his forearms over his knees. He didn't bother checking to see if it was a reasonable time to drift off; he'd learned that when sleep came a rarely as it did, it was best to just accept it and let it happen when it came this naturally.   
  
Besides... he had a security system for a... a reason...   


* * *

  
_"Oi now, what's this? Hang in there, kid, that's right, Janey's got'cha, what's your name, then? Hello? Helloooo? Oh, bugger."_   
  
_He didn't know what to think of the small renovated supply crate when he first blinked his eyes open; or what to think of the chick standing over him with a concerned expression._   
  
_"Hello there, good to see ya alive. Now, how's about gettin' your name?"_   
  
_He didn't mean to ignore her question, he just wasn't processing everything very well as he looked around with a no doubt dumbfounded expression, eventually turning completely away from the blonde chick as he looked down at the bed he was laying on._   
  
_"Oh? What's this now?" He started to turn back to her when she placed hand on the side of his head and started poking at the back of his neck. "You didn't get yourself nicked by a kraggon, did ya?"_   
  
_He recoiled, pushing away from her and clamping a hand over the back of his neck, managing to knock himself off the bed and ended up with his back against a wall. He moved his hand only momentarily to check and see if he might've been bleeding or anything, but as far as he could tell his neck was fine._   
  
_"Jittery little thing, innit?" A woman he hadn't noticed before snorted at his little display._   
  
_"Yeah, but I think the poor thing's just in shock."_   
  
_"Hm? Do y'think he might be from the Dahl ship that just crashed a little while ago, maybe? He certainly looks like he's been through hell."_   
  
_"No... I was goin' to get a better look at it as it was coming down when I found 'em."_   
  
_"Well, just as long as he ain't playin' silly so he can swindle us, he can stay. But don't go gettin' attached, alright?"_   


* * *

  
A soft, rhythmic beeping eventually woke him. It was curious in the sense that it wasn't loud or obnoxious and obviously wasn't meant to rouse someone out of the grave. Eventually though, after what felt like a couple of minutes, he did finally manage to shake the sleepy fog from his brain and get to his feet to eye the panel, soon coming across a button that was pulsing a vibrant blue in beat with the soft beeping. Looking first toward the displayed map for any sign of... well anything, he concluded that it was nothing to do with something external.   
  
Cautiously, but surely enough, Pickle gave the button a push and was surprised by what the computer had to say to him.   
  
" _You have recei_ **_ved-d-d_ ** _-d 15 new ECHOmes_ **_sag_ ** _es_ ."   
  
Pickle blinked at the panel for a solid minute before finally finding his words. "From who?"   
  
" _Command not accepted. Please_ **_try_ ** _again_ ."   
  
Pickle quickly cleared his throat, "Identify sender." He tried his best to sound like he was giving a command rather than asking a question.   
  
" _13 ECHOs come from Janey Springs. Remaining 2 ECHOs come from an-_ **_an_ ** _\- an unknown source."_   
  
Pickle blinked in stunned silence at the news. That- that- how was that possible? Hyperion had relays set up all over Elpis for the specific purposes of stopping any and all contact from happening between those on Elpis and those on Pandora... unless... "Well, damn- er- I mean, play first message... “   
  
" _First messag-_ **_g-g_ ** _-ge begins_ ,"   
  
" _Hello? Pickle? Seems to be somethin' blocking my signal from getting to you, but it's probably only temporary- anyways! How're you doing up there? Sorry I left ya on such short notice and all; what with us bein' such close business partners but you would not believe all the things I've gotten to do here on Pandora! But enough about me, reply back as soon as you get this, I want to hear all about of things on Elpis are going! Hope to hear from ya soon!"_   
  
" _End of message_ ."   
  
Pickle felt like he could barely breathe. So Janey had been sending him ECHOs all this time. The only difference was, she'd actually been hitting send instead of just deleting them in frustration when they rebounded the first time. And to finally hear someone else's voice was like the most delicate of lullabies to his depraved ears. "Save and then play next message."   
  
Pickle spent an entire day just listening to every ECHO he'd received from Janey over and over again, not even paying mind to the two he'd received from an unknown sender. Plenty had changed for his old business partner, and from what Pickle could piece together, it all seemed to have been for the better; although the last ECHO had been dated from two years ago, and Pickle was more than aware of how much could change over that amount of time.   
  
It was after the sixth time around that Pickle decided to give the last two ECHOs some attention, trying to remember to stay cautious, but ultimately failing that due to his mind still reeling over the fact that the Hyperion relays were down, proving that the fall of Helios hadn't just been some fever dream.   
  
" _Message begins_ ,"   
  
" _Attention, to all DAHL personnel, we are in the process of issuing a full haul of all Lost Legion troops that are still present in the Pandora-Elpis area. If you receive this message respond as soon as possible. It is our top priority to see our troops home._   
_Signed, the DAHL corporation."_   
  
" _End of message. Play next message?"_   
  
Dahl? What the hell was Dahl doing back on Elpis? Despite hearing the contents of the ECHOmessage, Pickle didn't believe for a second that the company's interest was in evacuating their long abandoned troops. "Check the timestamp on that last message."   
  
A brief beep, followed by, " _Message was sent three weeks, five days, six hours, and 37 minutes ago. Message was received_ -"   
  
Pickle started tapping his index finger against his bottom lip in deep thought. “About a month ago, then, yeah?” He considered if his inability to receive ECHOs had managed to keep Dahl off his front doorstep. Why would they check an old Dahl vessel if there was no proof of activity around or in it? "Play next message."   
  
"Next message begins,"

“ _Attention, to all DAHL personnel, we are in the process of issuing a full haul of all Lost Legion troops that are still present in the Pandora-Elpis area. If for any reason you are incapable of issuing a response, fear not soldiers, we will be searching all known wreckages for you, it is our priority to see our troops home._

 _Signed, the DAHL Corporation.”_   
  
The time stamp on this one was a little more than a week ago. Suddenly every good feeling that Janey's ECHOs had given him vanished, replaced by a dreadful sort of anticipation. Was Dahl really coming back to Elpis? Would they come to the Drakensberg if they did? How long would he have to prepare?


	4. Affirmative Action

_ “The risks I took were calculated, _

_ but man, am I bad at math.” _

\- " Guide to Troubled Birds. ” -

  
  
**Exactly 27 h** ours later, two Dahl soldiers attempted to board the Drakensberg, only to be scared off by the turret system they hadn't expected to still be functioning. All their sensors told them there wasn't even a trace of any activity on board the ship; that it was completely abandoned. Pickle had sincerely hoped that the ECHOs had been telling the whole truth. That all Dahl wanted were their lost troops. But the fact that it wasn't more than a few hours later that a group of five came back to attempt to gain entrance proved that Dahl was looking for something more.   
  
Perched perfectly atop a high beam in the main room, Pickle was able to remain completely out of sight should the group manage to break their way in while also keeping the entire room within his sight; as well as being able to keep an eye on the detailed map of the Drakensberg that was holographically displayed beneath his perch. He remained completely still in his cryosuit, concealed by shadow, the visor of his helmet showing a zoomed view of the map below; the five Dahl soldiers lighting up as red blobs on the infrared scans. They still seemed to be having a go at it with the turrets, but Pickle could tell that it wasn't the turrets winning the fight.   
  
"Lift level 5 lockdown, security code: Aspire 4481; authorization, Davis Pickle." He mumbled as clearly as he could into his helmet's headset.   
  
There was a long enough pause that Pickle wondered if the computer had heard him or not before there was a soft beep of acceptance. " _ Command acc _ **_ept_ ** _ ed. Lockdown lifting in 3-3- _ **_3-3-3-_ ** _ 3, 2, 1 _ ."   
  
Pickle fixated his attention on the group as they scattered, guns no doubt aimed towards the blast door as it slowly managed to slide itself open, shields slowly flickering and shutting down all over the Drakensberg. The move Pickle was taking was risky, but calculated. If they were just looking for old Dahl research or tech, they'd find the bulk of it in his library, and hopefully that would satisfy them enough to keep them from coming back.   
  
He watched them on the map for a short while as they made their way through the empty halls of the ship. Eventually they reached an area where he could open up a live feed of surveillance footage and keep tabs on them through that. Few words were exchanged, and they instead seemed to communicate solely through military hand gestures that made little sense to Pickle. It wasn't until the five reached the anteroom of his library that any of them actually started conversating. And luckily there was a camera nearby that still managed to pick up audio.   
  
"You still think this place is totally abandoned, soldier?" The one in lead jutted a helmeted head towards the open library door.   
  
One of the two working rear-security for the group let out an indignant snort before shooting back, "well if this place ain't empty, then why's there nothin' showin' up on our scanners then, eh?"   
  
"I'm sure there's plenty of ways for someone to hide from our scanners. Let's just be thankful that it seems everything we need is right here." The lead one replied stepping back out of the library. "That being said, I want you and Stilt to stay in this area and keep an eye out- Urquhart, take Xu and do a quick sweep around the rest of the ship- maybe try to find the main console so we can give it a quick pat-down, everyone clear?"   
  
"Sir." Came the unison response from the four soldiers in varying degrees of dedication.   
  
"Good, get to it."   
  
Pickle disconnected from the feed, uttering a soft 'heck,' as he shook his head. As confident as he was that he wouldn't be found in his current spot, the longer he left the Drakensberg with its shields down and blast doors open, the more attention would be brought to the wreck. His trigger finger twitched before he shook the idea from his head. That would be a horrible idea in a long run... No, the best he could is try to move things along. He settled on following this 'Urquhart' and 'Xu' through the live feeds and hopefully he'd manage to convince them that there was nothing else to be found in the systems which in turn would hopefully usher them out of the ship faster. That was the most he felt he could do at this point.

  
He traced the duo easily enough, and found them to be the most talkative of the group now that they were separated from their superior.   
  
"So what do you think about all this?"   
  
"This what?" The one Pickle presumed to be Urquhart replied.   
  
"Us being sent off to explore an entire ship by ourselves while there may or may not be any number of dangers lurking in the shadows that are beyond our sensor's abilities to pick up?"   
  
"Oh... well, I mean we have guns for a reason, right?" Urquhart replied with little more than shrug as they took main point.   
  
"Well, yes, but that's not the point I'm trying to make... what do you think might be here? I mean it's not like the ship's shields dropped because we asked it nicely to open up, you know?" Xu persisted, despite the fact that Urquhart clearly didn't care for the topic.   
  
"I dunno, probably nothing that we need to be concerned about. Why don't we just get our job done? Then we can leave and it won't matter." Pickle was beginning to rather like this solider.   
  
"Right, sure... I mean, if that's the attitude we're using, why don't we just circle back and say we finished our search then. I doubt we'd be able to pull up anything Dahl would find useful in this day and age anyways."   
  
"Ha, right, and then you can face the Sergeant all by your little lonesome when it turns out we missed something because we thought we'd cut corners and not get a clean sweep of the whole system. Brilliant idea."   
  
"Well, when you put it like that..."   
  
"Besides-" Urquhart continued on like Xu had never tried to make a response, "you know we're actually here for the old AI core. I don't think the Sergeant will find that just laying around inside that weird ECHO shrine room."   
  
_ It's obviously a library _ ... Pickle bit the tip of his tongue, jaw remaining tense. He was however a touch perturbed to find that they were here in search of Felicity. As far as Pickle knew, the AI had met a sort of end by Hyperion’s hand and that was long after the fall of the Lost Legion. So why were they trying to find that particular AI now? Especially so many years later...   
  
It didn't matter- it actually made his life a hundred times easier. Now, all he had to do was make sure that whatever console they used to do a sweep with would immediately lock onto the Skipper's old chamber and relay to them that the AI core was long removed from the ship. Although, Pickle considered making them run around a bit more... For the sake of listening in on a reasonably intelligent conversation.   
  
"Alright, left here and- ah! There, this elevator here should take us down to the main control room. Let's hope there's still enough juice to get us there and back up." Urquhart's voice carried all the way from the top of the lift to where Pickle was perched on his beam. The genuine sound of another person's voice, without any static, or reverb, or anything except real human sound was almost foreign to Pickle's ears as he cocked his head toward the north side of the room, watching stiffly as the lift grinded and sputtered all the way down into view, and then continued choking until it hit bottom.   
  
The soldier, Xu, let out a loud whistle once they stepped off the lift and into the large room. "They really don't make control rooms like this anymore, do they, Hart?"   
  
"Perceptive as ever, Xu." Pickle could practically hear Urquhart rolling their eyes as they hurried along toward the stair that led up to the main panel. "C'mon, we can stop and smell the moon dust later."   
  
Xu followed, but at a much less enthusiastic pace that made the other soldier shake their head more than once. "What's the sudden rush? A second ago you were all about taking your time to get things done right."   
  
"No, a second ago I wanted what I want know- to get things done, and in a timely fashion, now gimme the interface bot."   
  
" _ Gimme gimme never gets, don't you know your manners yet _ ," Xu mocked in a sing-song voice, all the while undoing their pack and fishing out the aforementioned bot. "Here, and be gentle this time- they aren't cheap to replace, you know."   
  
"Cry me an ocean," Urquhart snapped back, activating the bot and guiding it to the link port. "Connect here."   
  
" _ Affirmative _ ," came the choppy response. " _ Connection successful; commands?" _   
  
"See if you can hack into the security system and do a clean sweep of the whole ship, keep a special marker on for any other artificial intelligence on board."   
  
" _ Affirmative. One moment, please..." _   
  
Pickle unconsciously found himself holding in his breath as Xu walked directly under him, the soldier seemed to be completely absorbed in the shifting view of the map on the large centre projector. "That's odd..." the soldier mumbled.   
  
"Not now, Xu. Bot-7T4, have you completed your task?"   
  
" _ Task complete. There is no sign of any artifical intelligence aboard the Drakensberg _ ."   
  
Urquhart sighed, tapping fingertips on the metal of the console. "Damn."   
  
"Hart, can you take a look at this?"   
  
"Can you pinpoint where the AI might have been housed? Maybe we can at least find some evidence as to what happened to it _..." _   
  
" _ Command being processed, one moment _ ..."   
  
"Hart," Xu tried to grab their partner's attention again as they leaned in closer, as if it would help them get a better look at the map. Pickle's heart pounded in his chest as he realized what it was the Dahl soldier had noticed. Just a little to the side of Xu's on heat signature was a much smaller, and lighter coloured speck. Just barely enough to be noticed by someone looking too closely at the map.   
  
"Not now Xu, I'm working here." Came the impatient response.   
  
Pickle steeled himself as Xu started looking around the room, thankfully never once looking up, but rather looking down over the far side of the railing instead. "Hart, I actually think-"   
  
" _ An old AI housing unit has been located, but be advised that it still seems to have it's own separate security network that is completely functional." _   
  
"Thank you, bot. Display the room over there on the-"   
  
"Wait, don't change that yet! Bot, enhance the current image. Show only this room and do another scan for heat signatures." Xu interrupted Urquhart, even going so far as to raise a hand when the other attempted to argue.   
  
" _ Command processed. Scan complete." _   
  
"There!" Xu pointed triumphantly at the now much bigger dot that was just vaguely orange in appearance beside their own vibrant red heat signature. "I think there's someone in this room with us, Hart."   
  
Pickle swallowed another 'heck,' as he considered his option, but ultimately he was hoping he could rely on this Urquart to brush off what seemed to just be a random bright spot. But if there was one thing Pickle had learned, it was that people sucked. Urquhart's head immediately seemed to tilt up, looking just to the left of Xu. "Xu-"   
  
Pickle pulled a grenade off his belt and dropped it without a second thought before running along the pipe, only worrying with getting out of range before either the grenade went off, or the soldier's guns did.   
  
"Grenade, Hart, move!"   
  
Already halfway out of the control room, Pickle never even paused to look back when the explosion rocked the ship. This wasn't how he wanted this day to go at all. Instead of making a full-fledged run for it, Pickle took pause in the nearest cranny he could remember, sliding completely out of sight in seconds. Once securely tucked behind a grate and out of sight from the main corridor, he crouched low, pulling out the only gun he had on him, a Dahl pistol ironically enough.   
  
"Sergant, Sergant this is Urquhart, we have been engaged by an unknown- permission to incapacitate subject, sir." The loud stomping sound of heavy army boots preluded to the breathless shouts into an ECHO. The soldier was no doubt shouting do to their shot hearing from the loud bang of the grenade.   
  
" _ Permission denied. You know the rules, Lieutenant. All hostiles are to be shot on sight _ ." Came the immediate response.   
  
"I never said they were hostile, sir, merely their affiliations unknown-"   
  
" _ With all due respect, Urquhart, we all heard the explosion, if you wanted to play hero you work for the wrong company. Shoot the hostile on sight, soldier." _   
  
"Shit," he heard the DAHL soldier mumble, before the sound of a handgun clip being slid out of place, checked, and then jammed back in place. "Uh, so... listen, if you're nearby, I don't actually want to hurt you... I'm sure we can work something out."   
  
"He's lying! Hart, you heard the Sergeant. Shoot on sight, leave your conscience out of this," so Xu had made it just fine after all. "Besides, that prick screwed over our shields with their electric grenade, we're already at a disadvantage. Hey bot, buddy, do another scan, this time only look for low-level heat signatures."   
  
" _ Affirmative. Transferring scans to your ECHOdevices..." _

  
By the time the pair came across the grate however, all they found was an open hatch leading into the electrical passages and an unpinned grenade.   
  
Pickle couldn't remember the last time he had needed to navigate his way through this particular part of the Drakensberg; all he knew was that he never had to do so with nearly as much of a hurry. Luckily the pulses being emitted by the wiring all around him would work as snazzy enough camouflage; but he wouldn't be able to get anywhere fast with so little space to move. Inevitably enough, Pickle managed to shimmy his way up through the second hatch he came too, not even bothering to take the time to replace the cover before tearing off down the corridor towards the only feasible way he knew of that would get him far enough away from the Drakensberg that these Dahl soldiers wouldn't be able to get their hands on him, or be able to sniff him out with their soon-to-be upgraded sensors. How he regretted even considering upgrading the Drakensberg's systems to be able to recognize his heat shielding algorithm.   
  
Pickle slid around a corner sharply, nearly slipping as he kept up with his mad dash towards the Skipper's chambers. "Commence lockdown of the Skipper's chambers, authorization; Davis Pickle!" He shouted the moment he skidded over the threshold, the computer taking too long for his liking to respond.   
  
" _ Lockdown acknowledged. Set timer on lockdown procedure?" _   
  
"No. Wait for my command to lift the lockdown." Pickle pressed his back against the now firmly closed airlock, breathing heavily.   
  
" _ Understood. The stated area or areas will remain in lockdown until further notice." _   
  
"Thank you," he muttered habitually as he pushed himself away from the door to pace the room as he considered his options. Or rather, lack thereof. He had to eject, there was no way around it. Holstering his handgun, he reached inside his suit to the inner breast pocket where he'd begun keeping the picture of him and his family. The Drakensberg had all but become his home and now he was going to abandon it, just like that? All it took were a handful of armed soldiers and he was fleeing just like that? Truly?   
  
His mind started to piece together a new plan that would have a more appealing result when the entire ship shook beneath him, nearly knocking him to the floor. Now that hadn't had anything to do with him. Activating his HUD he surfed through the ship's system to get an idea on what might have caused the damage, but ended up with a surveillance feed instead of the Dahl Sergeant and the two soldiers that they'd kept with them having a row with a gang of scavs that apparently had jumped on the chance of moving into the Drakensberg not long after Pickle had dropped the shields. Any hope he might have had of keeping the ship his home and getting it back without a fight quickly died. "Activate turrets. Aim for everything and anything moving with a high level heat signature."   
  
" _ Error, security code and authorization required to proceed _ ."   
  
"Oh for f-  _ damn _ … uhhh, security code.. 18A4... 2Z64! authorization: Davis Pickle."   
  
" _ Command accepted. Turrets activating." _   
Pickle nodded grimly, then took two identical stickies he kept at his back and placed them strategically on the one and only console that might have been used to track the pod if the right person got their hands all over it. Then, without so much as giving a one last scan of the damage the turrets were laying down on his command, he found the go-bag he kept packed and ready at all times and entered the escape pod.

As he started strapping himself in, he felt a sudden rush- something that felt far more exhilarating than simple adrenaline, the familiar weight against his chest lifted as he got the pod’s systems booted up.

 

_ Finally. _

 

* * *

 

 _"They were cut from the same cloth- just with different [_ blades? but cutting? maybe scissors? _],_ _at different ends, with different factors at [_ hand? _]. One was meant to lead, to rule, to surpass all. The other, to follow, to protect, to stay just a step behind, just within reach._

  
_ One was meant to be- the other, a side-effect[ _ translator's note: yeah that last word? all me. the word actually used? not a nice one. I don't think these guys were big fans of these Cata-thingies]   
  


_ A Ruler was never meant to [ _ translators note: birth? I hope that's what this is saying? _ ] a Catalyst. Builders had a purpose. [ _ Guards? _ ] had purpose. Warriors, Healers, Destroyers- the next Ruler to reign. They existed with purpose, with specialties that could not be shared. _

  
_A Catalyst had no purpose. It isn't as though they were useless- no. They had many uses._ _They could fight. They could heal. They could decimate. They could [_ inspire? _], aspire._  
  


_So followed their true purpose[_ translator’s note: there was a slight change in syntax here but I'd rather assume it was an age-old typo then go with what the other meaning was… _] They were the [_ bane _] to a Ruler, if cultivated[_ translator's note: yeah, that's the word they actually use. these guys were total dicks _] correctly._

  
_The [_ bane _] to a [_ Guard; again I think _]._ _To a Builder, a Destroyer, Healers, Warriors- the harmony that had taken so long to achieve again after the Illness, could be destroyed as easily as they took breath. So Catalysts were not given this knowledge. Their own selves,_ _hidden from them._ _If a Ruler lacked Warriors- a Catalyst would fill the space, peculiar differences to their new kin, ignored.[_ translator's note: ehhh, might've paraphrased this part? weird language formation, something about nudity probably, so I figured I'd take some artistic liberties? _]_  
  


_ If Healers lacked, a Catalyst would do. So on, so forth. [ _ translator's note: Definitely    
Paraphrased; kind of dragged on, so I figured I'd just shorten it a touch _ ] _   
  


Woe[translator's note: woe?whoa?wow? owo? _ ] the day, A Ruler decided to teach a Catalyst that they could fight, could sing, could build it all up, take it all back down. Travel far, heal wounds left to fester [ _ not really a translator's note, I just think think ' _ fester _ ' is an icky word and feel obligated to tell everyone that _ ]. That would be the day a Ruler declared War. That would be the day, the Illness [ _ translator's note: boy they sure do love being vague about this illness thing, don't they? must’ve been really bad- or really embarrassing, right? _ ] would return to a civilization that had barely survived the brink of self-annihilation[ _ still could've been really bad or really embarrassing imo _ ]." _

 

Passage 1/3 found in the ruins at: [ _ error: information redacted _ ] 

Dig Located on the Planet: [ _ error: information redacted _ ]

Translated by: [ _ error: information changed by unknown source _ ]: My editor was super pissed   
about my translator notes? so now they refuse to give me credit? which is rude. Anyways, the  name's [ _ error: information redacted _ ]


	5. Concordia

_“A little sincerity is a dangerous thing,_

_and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.”_

\- Oscar Wilde _-_

 

 **The city h** ad never been so quiet. Every particle of artificial air seemed to be held at a stand still. Helios had fallen. The entire space station just... crashed from its orbit with no warning whatsoever. Even when the Lost Legion had attempted to take it out, the space station had remained- and that was back in its _construction_ faze.   
  
And naturally, everyone had to come running to _him_ for the answer; and _naturally_ , he didn't even have one. Nothing like rolling out of bed with a hundred pings all demanding to know where he was and why Helios had just been in orbit one second, then crashing the next. No warning, no signs of distress. Nothing to go on at all. 

So he kind of just... ignored it. Timothy Lawrence honestly had enough on his plate as it was. There were still countless loyalists still left on the moon causing havoc, and the job of finding the ex-Hyperion workers, or Handsome Zealots as most of Elpis prefered to call them, was left to him. Which was fine, really. It's not like he couldn't have done literally anything else asked of him. Whatever.

"Oi, Timothy, we got someone of interest downstairs."

Looking up from his monitor, he blinked with a touch of surprise in his genetically altered eyes. "Who?"

The courier leaned against the entry way with a smug expression. "Who do you think?

  
Anticipation raced through his system as he switched off his monitor and got up, heading around the desk without hesitation. "We finally found them?" Tim questioned as he motioned for the courier to follow beside him as he made for the lift.   
  
"Nah, more like they found us. Practically threw themselves at one of our teams that was out for a run. Seems like there's someone else on the lookout for old Hyperions. Bastard ain't given us much more than that, insists they talk to you instead so we left 'em with Nina."   
  
Tim nodded along to every word intently. "Good, good. Great actually- if anyone can get them to give up anything they might be hiding, it's Nina."   
  
"Well, I dunno about that- these Hyperion blokes are resilient. I mean, I always thought Dahl were diehards, but these bastards take it to a whole new level when it comes to self-preservation. I personally witnessed one guy name off every offence a comrade of 'is committed before shootin' them himself thinkin' that would win him our favour."   
  
A cold shiver ran up Tim's back at the reminder- he'd seen the whole thing over an ECHO; and other incidents far too similar for him to get a good night's sleep while those still loyal to Hyperion’s legacy remained on Elpis. "Well we can count on Nina making sure nothing like that happens. Not until we've gotten a chat in with them."   
  
"Cheers to that."   


* * *

  
"Ah, Tim, you come," Nina greeted him with a grim smile, one that always put Tim in the mood for a good interrogation. That was sarcasm of course. "We have talker over here; has not shut up since they came in."   
  
"Anything useful?" He asked,hoping to get this done and over with as soon as possible.   
  
"Unfortunately- no. But that will change when they see you, ha ha ha," she gave her usual rumbling laugh as she pulled stained curtains back to reveal a thoroughly tied up Hyperion worker, duct tape wrapped around their mouth. Twice. "Kept getting it off some how. Third time, did twice just to be sure," Nina said before giving another laugh and reaching over to tear the tape off quite painfully.   
  
Tim stepped forward until he was no longer in shadow. "So the Coordinator finally decided to join the party."   
  
The Hyperion swallowed thickly, their eyes gaining the same glassy look most of the other's had. It was the effect of Tim's appearance, and without fail, the sudden adoration in every Hyperion's eyes when they looked upon him, made him feel sick to his very core.

"Aye, bloody sucks so far though," they sniffed indignantly, wetting their lips as they watched Tim's every movement like a hungry skag. It made his skin crawl and his stomach churn.  
  
"Well, you understand we're going to need a few things from you. Information of every Hyperion personnel on Elpis and their location- as a start." Tim looked towards the floor, clasping his hands behind his back to hide the shaking in them as he tried not to break under the pressure of being stared down, pacing around the bed they were strapped too with a menacing gait he'd long ago mastered during his years of impersonation.   
  
"Aye; and you'll be knowin' that ain't no Hyperion is gonna be givin' you anythin' without gettin' a few things in return." He didn't have to look up to know that the Coordinator was no doubt all smiles like they were some kind of master strategist.   
  
Tim stopped with his back completely turned to both them, and Nina who was still standing just out of the main light that hung over head. He let out a short, perfectly timed breath, allowing the stillness to settle for a moment. "I see..." Keeping his stance at ease, he let out an amused breath, swallowing his disgust before turning to stare over the captured Hyperion. "Listen, kid; and listen well; either you give us what we want and die with a little guilt off your shoulders, or you die and we find some other way to get what we want. Either way, one less Hyperion for us to worry about."   
  
The Coordinator matched his gaze, their lips peeling back into a large grin that showed horribly kept dentistry. "No ye won't. Every Hyperion from 'ere to Pandora itself 'as heard about you, Doppelganger. Ya don't scare me, yer as soft as they come and everyone knows it."   
  
A humoured snort from Nina's direction managed to curb some of their bluster, but what really made them shake was something Tim really hated having to do. With a soft, almost inaudible chuckle, he leaned down, just enough for his palms to make the edge of the infirmary bed dip.

"I think you underestimate just how many times you and I have met before, Coordinator- because I can guarantee you, that every time you were met with a snarling face and a gun to your head when you weren't doing your job good enough- it wasn't Him. Handsome Jack never stepped a single foot back on this godforsaken moon since he stopped the Lost Legion."  
  
He forced a smile as the Hyperion's eyes widened in surprised shock. "That's right. I've always been more than just a pretty face; every barked order- every gunshot- it was all me. And everytime I recall the fire of a gun and one of your little helpers falling limp to the floor when they couldn't get their job down just right, ohhhh, nothing beats that feeling then actually pulling the trigger." He flashed perfectly sculpted teeth as he pushed himself back away from the shaken Coordinator, crossing his arms loosely across his chest triumphantly.   
  
The Coordinator swallowed hard. "You- yer bluffin', there ain't a chance any 'o that was you!" The crack in their voice let Tim know he'd done more than enough to convince them.   
  
"If that's what you believe. Nina, if you will," he smiled sweetly to the nurse.   
  
"Oh, this Nina's favourite part." The nurse chuckled far too darkly for Timothy's taste.   
  
The screams were real, and could have been heard from all across Concordia- possibly even Elpis- if the infirmary hadn't been previously reinforced with soundproof walls. But that just meant Tim had to suffer every agonizing second of it with a sickening grin plastered across his face, knowing no one but he and Nina would ever have to live with that sound.   
  
It wasn't more than a minute before they had the Coordinator giving up every piece of information they could- everything down to a full blown confession to every single illegal thing they'd done before the sixth grade on an ECHOrecording. They probably would have gotten more if the Hyperion hadn't passed out from blood loss.   
  
"Just give them some light bandaging and then put them with the others. I'll take this up to the office and get the important bits sent out to the teams." He started to head out hurriedly, peeling the face mask off his skin, when he heard Nina say something. "What was that?"   
  
Nina gave him a grim look, "I say you getting good at this. Too good perhaps."  
  
She probably could have hit him and done about the same amount of damage as that comment had. He paused, leaning momentarily against the wall with his head down, trying to find some way to deny it. Looking over the mask in his hands, eyes tracing every groove and curve in the synthetic skin he eventually sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I could disagree with you, Nina, but for the most part you're right. I am good at this, there's no two ways about it. But please don't think for a second that a enjoy a single moment of it."  
  
Nina laughed at that; not a hearty one, a mirthless one. "I never say you like. But, I know you sleep well. Sure, few nights where there is no sleep. Awake all night, and you so full of rage. But you keep it all in, ja? You do because know if you let it out, you lose edge, lose focus. You learn long time ago that you can't have that. No, you are cold, Timothy Lawrence, cold and bitter now." He looked up at her as she approached him, swallowing back a lump that had formed in his throat. "Ey, but perhaps tonight you cry. Perhaps that barrier falls- but not for this, no. Just for you, and all they take from you. And nothing wrong with that, little Timothy." A heavy hand laid itself on his shoulder, squeezing very tightly before she turned her back on him, signalling that she was down with her little reassurance speech.   
  
After a moment of silence, Tim forced out a shaky farewell, leaving quickly. Wiping an arm across his face and hurrying toward the lift back up to the security of his office, where he could be alone with his thoughts. With all his shortcomings, all his mistakes, with everything that had become of his life. If he could even call it a life.

He couldn't admit how much he wished she was right. But after everything, he wasn't even sure if there really was anything left aside from the cold and bitterness inside him.


	6. A New Home

_“Cosmos is a Greek word for the order of the universe._

_It is, in a way, the opposite of Chaos._

_It implies a deep interconnectedness of all things._

_It conveys awe for the intricate and subtle way in which the universe is put together.”_

\- Carl Sagan -

  
  
**Now was p** robably the time to mention that Pickle had made a slight miscalculation while tinkering with the pod's hydraulics. As it so happened, he was maybe a tenth of the weight of the core. Heart racing, adrenaline, and gods know what else singing in his veins- even without his harness tightly holding him into the seat, he wouldn't have been able to move as he was thrown up and across Elpis at what felt like light speed. The pressure alone had been enough to knock him out temporarily; the landing almost doing so permanently.   
  
He was barely conscious for the landing; only registering the smash of glass; the crack of thin ice, and a secondary landing that felt like it came directly after, but for all he knew didn't come until minutes after the initial hit.   
  
When Pickle finally managed to open his eyes, he was gasping for air. " _Warning! You are in a low oxygen environment!"_ his HUD warned him seconds too late as he tried to struggle free of his harness. If he was lucky he'd be able to hold out until he reached a nearby air pocket- if there even was one.   
  
Soon enough, he could barely keep his eyes opened as his gasps came short and quick, trying to take in any traces of oxygen that might still be lingering inside of his helmet, or coming in through his filter. It was kind of shit to have gotten so far, and now he was going to die from oxygen deprivation of all things. Though, considering everything, what else would he have done if his pod hadn't wrecked on impact? Where would he have gone? Everyone he knew was dead, gone, or worse. Probably.   
  
In the corner of his vision, he could just barely differentiate between black spots and a shadowy figure that moved somewhat hurriedly towards the wreck. Brightly coloured armour flashed under the emergency lights as Pickle felt the blade of… a knife, maybe? Slide beneath his harness, cutting it with ease and sending him tumbling onto his side, with little more than an 'umf,' as he still couldn't draw breath. He felt his OZ kit being tugged from his shoulder, and then saw it before him, badly damaged laying in the shards of glass, next came the hissing sound of his helmet being detached from the rest of his suit. Vainly, he struggled against that, until it came free and he gasped in a full lung of clean air, his head tingling from the sensation as he laid back down, cheek to metal and shrapnel alike, too concentrated on breathing to care.   
  
He did register an odd sound filling his head; like whispers in a completely foreign language that filled him with apprehension. A scared whimper escaped his lips as he felt long, cold fingers draw a line down the back of his neck before he was rolled over a far cry more roughly than what would have been preferred, finally able to face who- or rather what- was in the process of saving him. What might have been a face was obscured completely so that Pickle briefly wondered how it saw anything; and the vibrant colours that had distracted him moments ago now seemed to only be found along the almost grotesquely long arms and emblazoned across the chest in a script he couldn't place, but seemed familiar at a passing glance.   
  
" _Be still_ ..."   
  
"What-" The being produced a red vial- a health hypo, and didn't wait for a reply before it was stabbed into Pickle's chest, "gah!" The contents of the vial immediately going to work and set fire to his veins in the process; the shock of that alone caused him to black out entirely.   
  
-**--**-   
  
" _Pickle? Pickle, you've got a class, love, it's time to get up." A warm hand brushed through his thick hair, strands twirling around deft fingers_   
_._   
_"No, mum, I just want to sleep."_   
  
_Elu Pickle clicked her tongue at him, messing up his hair as he curled into a tighter knot. "Now who does that sound like? Eliza, you've gotten younger!"_   
  
_Pickle grumbled, rolling over and placing his head on his mum's lap as she continued to play with his hair, her fingers occasionally caressing the back of his neck. "I don't want to get up, mum. I want to stay just like this." He confessed._   
  
_"I know, little one, but you have to wake up, sooner or later. Now, wake up."_   
  
_"But, mum... Mum? Wait, don't-"_   
  
-**--**-   
  
He sat up with great effort, his spine making a sickeningly sweet cracking sound as he finally managed to lean forward, arms resting against his thighs. His mind was foggy as he brushed a hand through his... hair... where was...? His helmet. The crash. That- _that thing_ ! Was that-? And- where, where even was he? Looking around him, he was in awe of his surroundings. He appeared to be in what one would describe as a meadow of slate coloured grass. Beyond the small clearing were bushes and trees aplenty, all varying shades of blue to off blue-greens in their leaves; thickly grooved on all sides. And just beyond that, Pickle spotted here and there long stalactites hanging from a cavern ceiling, at least 25 to 30 metres above his head. Clusters of mushrooms and fungi were present among the mineral deposits, in glowing shades of yellow and red; and they seemed to be what was illuminating the entire area.   
  
"Well this is a bit odd, innit?" Pickle muttered, clearly to himself as not even a whisper of disturbed air seemed to move among the silent trees.   
  
Wait; air. There was a breathable atmosphere here- where in the actual heck was he?   
  
-**--**-   
  
20 kilometres below the moon's surface was honestly the perfect place for him to be. Completely safe from even themmost advanced sensors out there. Unfortunately, even if he wanted to get back out, he wouldn't be able too. That is unless he somehow mastered the art of teleportation, or learned how to sprout wings out of his arse. Neither of which were a likely possibility, of course.

  
Pickle had managed to find his way back to the crash site fairly easily considering the imprints in the grass showing where he'd obviously been dragged. He had some trouble once he reached the edge of the forested area and solid rock began. Without his helmet he had no way of producing any light artificially either. Thankfully it was only a short stumble through the dimly lit tunnel before he reached the wrecked pod; the area lit up from an unknown light source way, way up above him where he could only assume he'd crashed through a bit of thinning ice.   
  
The first thing he set out to get was his helmet, crouching down into a squat as he peered inside the small opening in the side of the pod; seeming to have been torn open by, well either by the fall, or that... being (Pickle was hesitant to think anything to rude about... _them_ , (since 'it' is a rude thing to say about... anything, he supposed) because he felt fairly certain that they were capable of more than he in forms of combat. You don't go getting nasty towards what's bigger and stronger.) Inside he was able to spot his old OZ kit, in all its busted glory, and just beyond that, his helmet. Plucking it out and sitting just outside the make-shift door, he gave it a look over. There didn't seem to be even so much as a scratch across the visor; but further inspection showed a chewed up air filter, which explained why his helmet hadn't automatically adjusted to the oxygenated environment.   
  
Setting the helmet to the side, he crawled back into the pod, coming out again a moment later with his grab bag, which thankfully hadn't suffered more than a good jostling and one torn strap. Before leaving, he pulled out some bits of equipment and started to work of just removing the air filter from his helmet; stuffing it all back into his bag before resting his helmet over his head, feeling much safer now that he not only had his HUD to guide him, but an extra amount of protection. One could never be too careful after all.   
  
A spark of curiosity made him look up with an activated HUD, neck craned as he got a vague idea of just how deep he was and, learned one of the reasons air seemed to be an abundance here. The pre-existing tunnel (likely occurring via erosion over time) that lead back up to the surface, seemed to branch off into another, certainly less appealing, cavern, and he could just make out what looked like an air pocket that he'd seen numerously on the surface. The difference was, this one seemed to be far larger, and was accompanied by the occasional shooting of a geyser, spraying particles of water up toward the other cavern's ceiling and... freezing instantly once it touched the ceiling. He tried getting a better look; to see if maybe there was a way to get up there and find a drinkable water supply, but the way up was far too steep for him, and it was all he could do to see that much standing on his tiptoes.   
  
Inevitably, he gave up on the endeavour and headed back toward the forested biome, deciding to leave the rest of the wreck until he had a bit more of a sure idea of exactly where he was. And why.   
  
"'Til I can figure that out, guess this place'll be me new home. Could use a bit of a fix up, but I 'fink it'll do." Pickle tried to muster as much excitement as the current situation would allow as he stood back at the edge of the Blue Forest; and apparently just in time to see it all come to life with local inhabitants.   
  
-**--**-   
  
Pickle wouldn't say that he exactly felt at home in the Forest; it was a little bit too... well, he just had never really been one for nature, or the outdoors. He liked having walls, desks littered with equipment and tech. Cords, wires, the glow of computer screens. But even he had to admit that it was turning into a nice reprieve from the Drakensberg. He wouldn't say that he was able to relax, what with being in a completely foreign place that had dangers he'd never had to face before lurking behind every tree and every rock. He was liking the change of pace though. _And_ the added thrill of exploring someplace new. He wasn't sure if there was any kind of day/night cycle within the cavern, but as the hours stretched on, he was beginning to notice the light source above starting to dim as the mushrooms and fungi began to lose their glow.   
  
He tried to stay mostly around the edge of the area, taking mental notes of all the wildlife he saw. He mostly saw rathyds, in flight among the stalactites, but every now and again he could hear the squaks and chirps of what sounded like birds- and _those_ were sounds he certainly hadn't heard in a very long time. Along the more rocky edges that reminded him more of the surface, he also came across some of the cryo vines; large as ever and nearly making him shiver just by looking at them. Of course, just seeing them made him feel like maybe making his battlesuit completely hidden from heat sensors wasn't such a pipe dream after all. Back on the Drakensberg there hadn't been any of the vines nearby for him to properly study, so he'd mostly just created a cryo-freeze solution to integrate into his suit- but now, there were a lot more possibilities. Especially if he could get his suit to exhibit the same blast of cryo like the vines did when you got too close.   
  
He continued on, but eventually grew bored of circling along the treeline and decided to double back to his start point, and from there try and find his way back to the clearing he'd woken up in. Pickle had only just managed to pass the group of cryo vines when he noticed movement. Finding cover behind a small indent of rocks, he peered out over the top, spotting the disturbance with some difficulty. Smooth scales in an off-green hue, and about two meters length was how he'd describe this reptilian inhabitant of the forest.   
  
At first he had no idea what it could possibly be, but after a few more moments of study, it clicked. He was looking at a kraggon. Remembering his HUD, he gave it a quick one-over, and sure enough, he found matches between this subterranean breed and the Docile Kraggons he'd come across once or twice on the surface. Cocking his head, he frowned as the kraggon seemed to be shuffling off back into the thick grove of trees. Despite common sense making a logical suggestion to him, Pickle followed. Deeper and deeper into the blue trees he followed this new curiosity until the kraggon stopped, making Pickle freeze in his tracks, sidling back against the thick trunk of a nearby tree. Peeking out, he was pleasantly surprised to see another kraggon- this one curled around a nest of eggs!   
  
He let his HUD fill in a few more details, his visor lighting up before his eyes as information poured out in front of him. It was a pair of female kraggons and a nest of six eggs. No, wait- minimizing the display, he spotted a seventh egg that must've rolled out of the nest somehow. With a concerned frown, and without thinking his action through, PIckle emerged from his hiding spot to retrieve the bronze egg from the grass.   
  
Immediately, the kraggon that he'd followed seemed to completely change their appearance; her smooth scales forming into rocky, hard plates until she more closely resembled her surface kin. Realizing his mistake, he straightened up, clearing his throat. "Ah, right... uhm, sorry... just thought ya might be missin' this," he held the egg out to the one that was curled protectively around the other six eggs; this one hadn't grown a protective shell, but had merely tensed and bared her teeth.   
  
A moment passed and she lifted her head, the tension easing in her shoulders as she eyed the egg. Pickle was fairly certain he could see alarm in the kraggon's dark eyes. They weren't particularly known for having good eyesight, but how could you not realize you were short an egg?   
  
Testing his luck, he cautiously approached the nest, egg still held out at arm's length towards the mother. He paused only briefly when the other kraggon emitted a low growl; but she stopped when the other made a gentler responding sound. Pickle took this as an invitation to place the egg gently among the others. This seemed to please the one mum greatly, while the other circled around with a perturbed expression on her smoothing features. The mum nuzzled the egg for a while before her gaze came back to meet Pickle's. Well, she couldn't tell that, since his helmet acted as a one-way glass between them. It occurred to him that that might be what was causing the flash of unease in her body language. It was honestly amazing how open the two were; their every action almost as easy to read as a computer screen.   
  
Refreshing as it was, Pickle decided it was probably best not to make the very dangerous pair feel uncomfortable. He made his actions open and deliberate to avoid any possibility of startling the two as he reached up to take off his battle helmet, waiting for the pressurized hiss before pulling it off his head. The mum lifted her head up, curiously sniffing the air as she started to get up to move toward him. Before she could barely move an inch, the other kraggon came up beside her, brushing against her and drawing her eye. For a moment Pickle was reminded of his mum and dad used to sometime only have to make eye contact, touch a shoulder, and they'd know what the other was thinking.   
  
The one mum relaxed back down, while the other lumbered toward him, nearly towering over his thin 5'4 frame, a wide yellow tongue darting out of the kraggon's mouth; he couldn't help but notice the symmetrical slits that ran up the sides of her tongue, before disappearing. She came closer and closer until the tip of her nose nearly touched his own. He swallowed noticeably as the kraggon took in a deep breath through her nostrils before exhaling hot air onto his face, making him blink and recoil for a moment before bravely setting himself back. An anxious shiver crawled up his spine as she leaned in, rubbing cheeks with him, the side of her slitted tongue briefly darting across his skin making him crinkle his nose at the sensation.   
  
And just like that she was lumbering back over to her mate, doing a similar exchange before turning away with a prudent snort to amble off into the trees. A content sigh came from the remaining kraggon as she laid down, curling a long tail around her seven eggs before resting her face down. Her eyes opened only once more to give Pickle one last look before he could only assume she'd dozed off.   
  
"Guess that could'a gone worse." He decided, taking a load off and settling himself down beside the nest. He wasn't entirely sure what was to come of this- or what he was supposed to do next, but he surprisingly alright with assumption that as long as he was in this little alcove, he was as safe as one gets in this place. Or at least safe enough to take a quick nap...


	7. Fight Over Flight

_ “If you don't stand for something you will fall for anything.” _

\- Gordon A. Eadie -

  
  
**Pickle's assumption a** bout the mushrooms and fungi on the cavern ceiling had been right. About a week with the Mums and he'd managed to get a good idea of the cycle.

Roughly ten hours of glow time, and 12 when they went completely dark. Of course there turned out to be some kind of glowing insects or some other small bioluminescent creature that became active during that time. It reminded him of a night sky- well, if stars were violet and lilac instead of white shining specks. Still, it was comforting to find similarities between this place and the surface that was so far above.   
  
Pickle was also beginning to grow rather fond of the Mums, especially the nested one, the other one- the Grouchy Mum, still seemed a bit unwelcoming to Pickle's presence in their grove; not that he blamed her. After just a week, Pickle wasn't even sure if the pair were just being nice or secretly planning to jump him and kill him for food while he slept. Although so far, it seemed low-flying rathyds were the main meal of choice for the Mums. He refused kindly every time the Gentle Mum tried to push some his way; deciding to keep to what rations he salvaged from the crash until that wasn't an option anymore. Although he had found a decent bush that produced the sweetest fruit he had ever tasted. Side effects included possible dysentery, so he avoided splurging too much.   
  
A few more trips back and forth between the Kraggon Grove and his crash site, and Pickle had managed to put together a list of what had and hadn't survived the landing. His spare OZ kit had managed to make it; his ECHOcomm hadn't, making all of the ECHOfiles he'd brought pretty much useless. As far as weapons went, he still had an old Dahl pistol, and 6 grenades; the other 3 he remembered packing missing among the debris. Four health hypos made it, the fifth lying busted open from impact. Most of what had been in his grab-bag had made it in one piece, including a Dahl issue sleeping bag, a couple glow sticks, about three feet of cord, a tinder box, a torch, a small repair kit stuffed with all sorts of gadgets (wrenches, screwdrivers, portable welding torch, the whole shebang); heck, even his specks made it. Not that he fancied wearing them, like, ever.  It was still a bit depressing that something as delicate as those could make it, but his ECHO hadn't. Still, he might be able to take some pieces out of the pod and use that to fix it up.   
  
Making it back to the grove with his knapsack slung over one shoulder, he was surprised to find that the Mums had been waiting for him. Literally. He felt like he was walking into a surprise-intervention. The Grouchy Mum snorted at the sight of him, looking down at her mate with an expression that Pickle couldn't read. The Gentle Mum looked back up at her with what Pickle think someone would have described as doe-eyes. With what sounded like a tired groan, the Grouchy Mum left her mate's side and came towards Pickle, which had a way of making him go as tense as ever as even hunched over she was 5 feet high. He always found himself wondering just how tall she'd be if she stood all the way up on her hind legs.   
  
Circling around him, she nudged the pack he had, nudging it repeatedly until he got the message and tossed it gently down near the nest, the Gentle Mum giving it a curious sniff before curling around her seven eggs and focusing back on the interaction between Pickle and the other kraggon. Moving to stand in front of him, the Grouchy Mum straightened up, extending herself enough to bump her nose against his visor, which had become their sign for when they wanted him to take it off. 

Hesitantly he complied, taking it off and tucking it underneath his arm, meeting the kraggon's eyes with an uncertain expression. The mum squinted at him, bumping the helmet again, and then giving a pointed look over to where he'd laid his pack down.   
  
"You want me to leave it 'ere? Sorry, but I don't fink-"   
  
The kraggon's nostrils flared impatiently, and after a painful couple of seconds where he weighed his options, he let out a long-suffering sigh and set the helmet down. For the first time since Pickle had met the kraggon, she looked at him with a pleased expression. And then like that she started heading out of the small clearing. After a moment's confusion, Pickle started to cautiously follow. It didn't help him at all when he looked back at the Gentle Mum to find her doing the closing thing to a smile that a kraggon could provide.   
  
It took him far longer than it should have to figure out what was going on. The kraggon was trying to teach him how to hunt. It was sweet, really. He tried his best to pay attention, but it was a bit difficult- what with the language and species barrier and all. Still, the tracking bit actually stuck rather well; which was particularly surprising considering the prey were airborne. Sure enough, after a while the mum let Pickle take the lead, and they found themselves in a small cave off the cavern where they found a score of rathyds holed up. "Fancy that, I'm quite the tracker, eh?" The kraggon gave him a silencing look, before she backed up, thick muscles rippling under her tough skin as she crouched low, belly nearly scraping the rocky floor as her scales turned slowly into tough plates. Stepping back out of the way, Pickle flattened himself against the wall. After a seconds pause, her eyes darting around to find the perfect target, she launched herself forward, curling her entire body into a tight, spinning ball, hitting a rock jutted out of the floor, and springing out of her spinner form, launching herself up amidst the high ceiling of the cave, her jaws opening wide and catching multiple of the rathyds that hadn't even gotten a chance to see what was coming.   
  
Holding his breath, Pickle watched with wide eyes, his body tense as he realized there was no way in  _ heck _ he was going to be able to do that too. The kraggon came back, setting half a dozen died rathyds on the floor at Pickle's feet. Then she motioned her head for him to follow up beside her as she started her crouch again. His turn, apparently. 

  
Pickle humoured her, crouching low, but instead of growing a thick skin, he decided to pull his pistol out of its holster. He still mimicked her crouch flawlessly (or as flawlessly as he could since he only had two legs instead of four), taking a stance that had him balanced perfectly. Holding the gun out in his left hand, he used his right arm as a bracer and switched it from automatic to single-fire shots. A few rathyds were still in a tizzy, flying around in all sorts directions with seemingly no patterns. "If I'd've known I was goin' to be doin' this I would'a brought my specks." He muttered, squinting at the flurry of flesh above him.   
  
Taking a deep breath, he fired as he exhaled. One, two, four shots, and the Grouchy Mum gave him a nudge, making him relax his stance and look over at her. She didn't look impressed as she ventured into the heart of the cave, coming back with the whole of two rathyds, one still wiggling with the vigor of life, but not for long until the kraggon snapped the poor things neck.   
  
"A'least I can track, eh?" The kraggon gave an indignant snort in response.   


* * *

  
The Gentle Mum seemed pleased with him at least, and after a few more outings over the next week, Pickle's aim was getting better, especially since he was remembering his glasses now. He started coming back with at least four rathyds with each trip, as many as seven. Although he considered that one time didn't really count. The mum that he had once started calling Grouchy he now called the Tough Mum, because sure enough she did have a touchy personality, but the more time he spent with her, he realized she was just being protective mostly, and now that protectiveness seemed to be extended to him as well now. That and her ability to be tough as nails in a heartbeat at will made it seem far more fitting.   
  
With a week of hunting rathyds under his belt, the Tough Mum seemed to think it was time to move on to something new, and this time led him in the opposite direction she'd taken Pickle the first time, until they made it all the way to the other side of the cavern where she stopped at a large lake, far bigger than any of the small ponds Pickle had come to from time to time to clean up. Fishing seemed to be on the agenda today.   
  
After watching the Tough Mum seamlessly swipe out a couple of fish, he considered the odds of him being able to just scoop out some fish. It wasn't even close to being likely. After a few seconds of being under the pressuring gaze of the mum, Pickle got an idea. He motioned for the kraggon to step back from the water, and after a few curious moments, she got the jist of what he wanted her to do. Pulling a grenade from his belt, he dropped it into the water and then hopped back to where the mum was staring at him with a cocked head. Seconds passed and then there was a muted explosion and water splashed every where. The two waited a moment before moving toward the edge of the lake, the kraggon following a cautious pace behind Pickle.   
  
Pickle turned and gave a triumphant grin to the Tough Mum as he scooped out eight whole fish that had floated to the surface. Pickle swore he saw her eyes roll.   
  


* * *

  
Time that wasn't spent learning how to hunt better, was beginning to be spent with the Gentle Mum, he was starting to school him in kraggon-speak. At least that's what he assumed was going on. As difficult as it was, he found it mesmerizing, learning the kind of range the Mum's had. What really helped was that the kraggon's seemed to have evolved a tone. Alarmed tones, gentle tones, even a tone that seemed to imply pleasant surprise. The more time he spent, the less that deep resounding feeling of aloneness ate away at him. And what made him especially happier was that the eggs were beginning to show signs of movement. They were going to hatch soon.   
  
And with this premonition, the Tough Mum and Pickle went out less in search of food, and more in search of a new home. From what Pickle could gather from this, it was likely the new babies would be too weak to survive in a forest where there was little protection from anything that might prey on them. Although so far, there didn't seem to be much that sought kraggons out for food; and Pickle was content with assuming that they were the top of the food chain, until a distressed sound rang out over the forest, catching both the Tough Mum and Pickle off guard as they'd been doing a search for a nice cave on the outer edge that would house them.   
  
While the Tough Mum was certainly strong as all heck, she lacked speed; but luckily Pickle was more than fast enough to make up for that, leaving Tough's side to dart like a rabbit through the trees and bushes until he was back to the nest where the Gentle Mum was standing over her eggs with her outer shell as tough as steel. Pickle looked around to try and pinpoint the source of danger, when a short of popping sound pricked his ears. The Gentle Mum acknowledged his presence with a grim nod, turning and standing up on her hind legs, leaving that side of the nest for him to guard. Pickle wasn't sure what to think of the level of trust that kraggon was showing him, but he accepted the responsibility fully, turning so that they were back to back, his gun pointed out as he surveyed the woods, his gun hopping back and forth between spots as he only managed to catch glimpses of disturbed dirt and what looked like... smoke clouds? "What are these bastards?" He tensed as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, almost on instinct letting out a low growl from his throat that warned the mum as his back. He let fly a spray of bullets, but none of them seemed to hit as a cackling sound erupted from the treeline at all sides. How many of these things were there?   
  
Worst of all, he didn't have his helmet on so he couldn't even rely on his visor for aid. Another pop, this one to his left and he fired before his eyes caught up, the sound of bullets piercing flesh, and Pickle finally caught sight of what they were facing. Fleshy and hairless, he had no idea what they were, but they seemed to able to teleport or maybe... No, they were just able to temporarily make themselves invisible! He caught sight of blue-ish green blood splattering on the grass the one he'd hit made for a retreat. He laid down a line of fire, each bullet causing the creature to phase back into sight until it eventually fell, dead in a heap. A screech pulled his attention just a little too late the right and he felt a sharp pain pierce his left shoulder, and fell among the eggs with a yelp. The Gentle Mum let out an angered roar, throwing herself at the creature with all her force before it could phase out and retreat.   
  
Clenching his teeth in an effort to ignore the violet coloured needle that was sticking out of him, he turned on his side, his face falling as he noticed movement among the majority of eggs; they were starting to hatch! "Stop that! You ain't comin' out yet!" Rolling onto his stomach, he watched as just in time the Tough Mum came barreling out of the trees to slam into one of the creatures that had been creeping up on Pickle and the nest. Resting his elbows on the ground to stabilize his gun, he aimed for a creature that had just popped into sight behind the Tough Mum, aiming first at its little ugly head before noticing that its tail seemed to be what the creatures used to administer their darts. One bullet directly to the tip and the creature started flickering in and out of sight, and it also managed to aggro the thing on Pickle, who was in no position to defend himself or the hatching eggs.   
  
The Gentle Mum let out what Pickle could only describe as a war-cry before rolling into a spinning rock ball and bashing into the advancing creature, and as more of them seemed to be circling, Pickle also noticed some new players- other kraggons! But after the exchange of blows between the two species Pickle was confident that the four new kraggons that had joined the fray were on the Mums side, which left him with the task of keeping the newly hatched kraggons within the confines of the nest- which would have been easier if they didn't weigh about as much as him and weren't the size of his own head each. Luckily it wasn't long before the surviving needle-tailed creatures retreated, popping sounds coming from all over the grove as screeches faded into the darkening forest.   
  
There was what felt like a convivial moment between all the kraggons present, until the four newcomers seemed to give their regards and be on their way, only one or two of them pausing to look curiously at Pickle as he sat surrounded by softly wailing- and perhaps cooing?- baby kraggons. He gave a lopsided smile to the Mums as they approached the nest with shining eyes as they looked down at all their little babies. The shine gave way to concern in Gentle's eyes, at first because of the one unhatched bronze egg, tucked protectively against Pickle's right side, but then she sniffed at Pickle's shoulder seeming to recognize the needle almost immediately, which he'd honestly forgotten about, mostly due to the fact that his entire left arm was now completely numb.   
  
"Right, about that-" he hadn't gotten any more slurred words out before his consciousness gave out and he toppled back into a heap, blacking out completely.   
  


* * *

  
He woke to a throbbing pain in his shoulder, and a heavy weight on his chest, and egg shells in his grasp. Blinking up at a cave ceiling that small versions of the red mushrooms pulsed warmly on, he tried to bring his hands up to rub his eyes, but they bumped up against something scaly laying his chest. Peering down, he looked into the yawning mouth of a kraggon. A very tiny, but still extremely heavy, kraggon. The baby smacked its lips as it rested a closed mouth back down on the center of Pickle's collar bone. They did a slow blink, showing one incredibly dark blue eye and one golden eye. "Hello there, you must'a been the late bloomer, eh?" Pickle held a hand out for the kraggon sniff at before brushing a hand over the scales. For the sake of not disturbing the young one, Pickle decided to just roll his head around to get a good look at where he was. It was a decent sized cave- more than big enough for the new kraggon family, and there even seemed to be a small reservoir of water trickling down from somewhere above along the cave's left wall. To the right, Pickle easily spotted the Mums' new nest where the Tough Mum was actually the one nestled down among the sleeping baby kraggons. (Remember to mention that Tough is all one colour, whereas Gentle has like a strip of yellow along one of her sides or something).   
  
Straining to look up over the top of the baby kraggon's head, the little one actually managed to topple theirself off of Pickle's chest and onto the cave floor beside him. "Oh, hey! You alright there?" The baby rolled themself over, onto their back, looking up at Pickle before sticking out a slitted tongue, only instead of retracting it back in a second later, they just left it hanging out. "You're a bit off, ain't ya? Hm... Well, I dunno what the Mums' are gonna name ya, but I 'fink I'm gonna call you Aris. How's that? Fits a silly thing like you, I say."   
  
While Pickle was trying to sit himself, he felt a jolt of pain from his left shoulder, reminding him of why there was a big hole in his memory of what happened between the kraggon grove and waking up in this cave. Using his right hand, he reached back to undo the zip on the back of his battle suit, swallowing back a cry as he peeled his suit and undershirt from over the injury. "Whoa," he breathed out, shocked at the sight of it. The spot where the needle had punctured his arm was red, but thankfully starting to scab over, but all around the entry point were purple vein-like marks stretching only a few centimeters out. "Hope that ain't permanent." (it ain't)   
  
Pickle took another look around, spotting his battle suit's helmet which was thankfully right beside his pack. They were both upturned and haphazardly tossed into a secluded corner of the cave. Still, it was better than if the Mums' had just left it somewhere out in the forest.   
  
"Hey, Aris, you fink you can bring that stuff over 'ere?" He gave the kraggon a hopeful, to which all Aris did in return was allow their tongue to flop out of their mouth again. "Right, got'cha." He gave the kraggon's head an idle pat, before deciding he had no choice but to get up and go over for his stuff himself.   
  
It hurt a bit, his upper right side still being a touch numb and all, but he finally managed to drag himself over there, Aris following him every step of the way, with their tongue still lolling out of their mouth. With a huff, Pickle relaxed with his back against the rocky wall of the cave, pulling his knapsack against his left side for further support. When he reached for his helmet however, he found it already be indisposed.   
  
"Aris, get that off your 'ead; come on, give it over," Pickle tried to suppress a laugh as he leaned over and pulled the helmet off the goofy kraggon's head. "You're a bit silly, ain't'cha?"   
  
Aris made a sound similar to 'burrup,' in response before curling themself up into a tight ball beside his legs, chin resting on Pickle's shin as they watched him go about what he was doing. With some effort, Pickle managed to hold his helmet up to the mark so his HUD could get a view of it, displaying the information on his visor. Once he heard the small beep of the scan being done, he lifted it over his head to take a look.   
  
The creature had apparently been a Stalker, something Pickle hadn't even been aware of existing- at least not on Elpis. He briefly remembered hearing an ECHO about them being all over Helios, and supposedly originating from Pandora. But ignoring that bit of revelation, his visor indicated that the needle that the Stalker had hit him with had paralytic elements, as well as traces from another element that couldn't be identified at that time (probably because he wasn't connected to the wifis lol) and in some cases, the poisons were strong enough to knock a Stalker's prey out; which accounted for all his symptoms. Having a lasting effect of up to five hours meant he must have been unconscious for at least six or so.   
  
"Looks like I'm gonna be alright, Aris." Pickle removed his helmet and set it down beside him with a relieved sigh. Keeping his layers pulled back, he took another peek at the wound. "It's pretty nasty lookin' though, innit?" He started to chuckled a bit before he felt a searing pain in his shoulder. He looked down at the mark and noticed that what he'd thought a harmless side-effect of the paralytic element must have been something else entirely as the vein-like violet marks grew darker and stretched further the more he hurt- or maybe the pain was actually being caused by the unidentified element finding its way deeper into his system.   
  
He let out a cry as he clutched at the injury, slamming his head back against the cave wall; but his body couldn't even register the pain from his head bouncing off the rock. In a daze and without really thinking it through, he fished a health hypo out of his bag, jabbing it into himself just above the puncture wound. He took a few short breaths as he felt the concoction of medicine set to work for a quick heal, and soon enough he was rolled over onto his left side, now in the fetal position, screaming in unimaginable agony as whatever was in his system fought back ferociously. He shoved his helmet away, making Aris jump back, before he unloaded the contents of his stomach, succeeding in waking up the sleeping mum and at least 3 of the other kraggon babies.   
  
His vision blurred a bit as he dry heaved a bit more; mostly just what was left of his Dahl rations, some,  _ probably a little more than undercooked _ , fish, and something else that was bright violet. He could only handle so much before he blacked out for a second time that day.


	8. Eridium Delirium

“Ecstasy _. From the Greek word_ ekstasis.

**_Meaning not what you think._**

_Meaning not euphoria or sexual climax or even happiness._

**_Meaning literally: a state of displacement_ ** _,_

_or being driven out of one’s senses.”_

\- Jeffrey Eugenides -

  
  
**He spent a** n unknown amount of time bedridden; only without the bed part. Not that he would have been able to appreciate such a thing anyways. He felt like he was knocking on death's door on more than one occasion as he writhed in pain, or heaved up more of that tasteless pulsing purple substance, seeing as there wasn't much of anything else in there at this point. Luckily during one of his few moments of clarity, he'd been able to root through his knapsack long enough to not only empty out one of his kits to use as a barf-bucket of sorts; but he'd also found a bottle that he'd stored water in prior.  
  
What he'd eventually found more disgusting than using his old toolkit as a harf zone was that a cluster of glowing fungus had grown a root (or w/e i'll look it up later probably) down and absorbed what he'd expelled on to the cave floor. While that meant he wouldn't be on clean-up duty, it also meant that he never wanted to go anywhere near this corner of the cave again once he got better. Assuming he would.  
  
While slipping in and out of pain-induced delirium, he also had moments where he knew he heard those strange whispers, sometimes it was barely audible, and other times it seemed to completely drowned out his own sounds of agony. What was worse, neither the young kraggons, nor the Mums ever seemed to hear or notice the whispering when it happened. And Aris only ever seemed to twitch in his sleep when they started. But that easily could have been due to something else entirely.  
  
It was a night where he had a particular amount of clarity, partnered with mobility that he managed to move himself over to where a drip was coming out of a crack among the stalactites of the cave ceiling. Pickle was pleased as a peach to find that water had collected into a small pool, just deep enough for him to scoop his hands into it so he could splash the cool water onto his face, which felt unbelievably nice since he was burning up from a fever. Repeating the motion over again a few more times, he finally just relaxed, partially on his side with his forearms extended into the water. He didn't have to worry about getting his suit wet after all, since he'd used his first spark of clarity to peel the damn thing off in hopes of cooling himself off. Which at least it did. Besides, he was still certain that the Mum's would do what they could to protect him.  
  
Even now, while looking over his shoulder he noticed one of the Mums opening an eye to check on him, startled at first to see him moved. The kraggon started to rise from her spot, when Pickle spoke up in a bit of a hoarse voice. "S' alright, I'm fine," he bade her to lay back down, which after some moments hesitation, she did. It was a while longer until she finally seemed comfortable enough to close an eye on him. But this was likely because Aris had begun to stir. They had more-or-less become Pickle's personal guard, making a bit of a racket anytime they noticed Pickle move so much as a finger. Pickle was actually content to watch Aris roll over and continue to doze, he wanted a bit of peace.

  
Something he wasn't likely to get after all though. A moment of pure serenity engulfed the cave, until he could hear just the beginning of the strange whispering. Pickle stifled a groan, not wanting to wake the sleeping family as he pulled his hands from the water to place them over his ears. Now, almost like on an orchestrated que, a stinging pain started to develop first in his left side, before pulsating along, following the way of the purple marks that had only deepened more in colour- now almost a complete black, which Pickle feared was a bad sign.  
  
Clenching his teeth, he pulled the front of his under shirt down to look at the scar, still keeping one hand over an ear. It certainly didn't look any better. He closed his eyes, squeezing his hands back over his ears as the whispers grew louder, but somehow still didn't manage to rouse any of the kraggons, or become any more intelligible. "Stop, stop, stop it," he whispered, trying not to let his voice raise too high. Maybe if he politely asked them to stop they would go away. But that obviously would be too easy.  
  
Opening his eyes he nearly gasped as he thought he saw a shadow move just out of sight behind a thick stalagmite. After a few prickling moments of fear started to fade just a touch, he slowly started to push himself up. _I'm just gonna take a look. The Mums are right there, so if it is somethin' all I gotta do is yelp. But it ain't gonna be anythin..._ was his internal mantra as he put a hand to the cave wall and slowly shuffled toward the stalagmite in question. He honestly would have prefered to see something instead of what he did find. It was a small tunnel just spanning the length between two stalagmites- which couldn't have been more than a meters width. He'd taken no more than half a step toward the opening before pulling back and scolding himself as quietly as he could manage. "I don't bloody fink so," he muttered to himself; and it wasn't until he turned his back that he noticed the whispers had faded, now coming back, almost demandingly the moment he took a step away.  
  
He put a hand up to his mouth, trapping a cry inside as he swallowed thickly. Sure enough, all he had to do was face the tunnel and the whispers quieted a considerable amount. "Please don't do this to me. I been a real good boy, I don't deserve this at all." The longer Pickle stood there, the louder the whispers got again, until he finally did the only thing he could- and went into the tunnel.  
  
It was dark as balls, but the further in he got, the more his eyes started to adjust. Especially with the help of the same sort of lighting as what was on the cavern ceiling, glowing above his head, only a maybe a centimeter or two up. He found himself stopping a few times to examine the lilac light source, and was surprised to find it an actual living thing, albeit not much more than something similar to goop. It wasn't until his third time stopping that he watched with great displeasure as one sentient flubbery thing devoured and absorbed another without so much as a warning. He went the rest of the way with his eyes forward and his body slouched down away from what was above him. (Bioluminescent Ceiling Jellyfish, anyone?). Thought it felt like quite some time before he made it to the end of the tunnel, it was really actually just a very short tunnel. He was just slowed by malnutrition and lack of strength.  
  
Whatever he'd been expecting at the end of the tunnel; obviously he didn't get it as he looked down at a sort of ledge, or, well it was a natural rock formation, that much he could assume, but it also pulsated with a violet coloured light that seemed to be emanating from the rock around it, even stretching down to the floor, spreading kind of like... tendrils across the floor. Or maybe more... vein-like... "No, I'm going now, bye! Hit me wif' all yer damn whispery wisps, but I am leavin'." He truly meant to turn to leave, but he couldn't. Not in the sense that he physically couldn't, but more in the sense that... He didn't want to. But he did want to... But he _didn't_ .  
  
And the more he thought about it; as he approached the... well it was kind of like a table, wasn' it? A thought crossed his mind- he hadn't felt this good since he'd been hit by that Stalker thing... His left hand grazed the side of the table, feeling the unusually smooth rock, realizing now just how symmetrical the lines of glowing violet were. "Ouch!" He pulled back his hand, breathing hard as he looked at his fingertips, blood beginning to break the surface already- wait... That wasn't blood. He felt faint just looking at it, swallowing hard as he set himself up on the table, putting the majority of what little light there was at his back so he could get a better look at his hand.  
  
Violet- he was bleeding _violet_ . No, maybe bleeding was the wrong word, he was just... _oozing_ whatever it was that was causing him his recent ailment. He felt fuzzy, like he wasn't in his own body anymore as he grazed his other hand over the table next, succeeding in effortlessly pricking every fingertip before his found himself laying down on the table, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. _What am I doing? What... what's happening...?_ It was only a few moments later that he drifted out of consciousness. Not to sleep per say, but definitely not... awake...  
  
-**--**-  


**_Help me. Help me, please. You know me- You_** **know** ** _me!_**  
  
_He could have shouted it. He could have screamed it. He wanted to. More than anything. He wanted to fight this, he wanted them all to burn, to suffer. He wanted to be left alone._  
  
**_You can't keep me here. You can't contain me forever. One day, I don't know when, I_** ** _  
_****_don't know how, but you_** **will** ** _burn for this._**  
  
_The rush was bittersweet. Setting fire to his veins, elevating him of all feeling other than one of complete displacement. Like he'd been plucked from his place of incarceration and was now nothing more than a weightless, incorporeal being. Everywhere, and nowhere. Free, and yet he could do nothing but accept the moment of escape. He was helpless. Broken, lost, another_ thing _from the toy box._  
  
**_"Why does h-_** **it** ** _, look at us like that? It's like it knows..."_** ** _  
_****_  
_****_"Because it does. Once the eridium enters its system, it has perfect clarity. Hence why it screams so much after that."_**  
  
_Scream was hardly the word for what he did. No, it was something far more pitiful, far more desperate, bordering on something beyond animalistic. Was there anything left to salvage? Was there any of him left? it. That's all he was to them. A tool. A weapon. Something to be pulled out and used before tucking it away again until next time._  
  
**_I have to believe in her. She said we can get through this. I have to believe that. I have too. I'm nothing, there's nothing, if I don't hold on to that. She'll get me out of here, she has too. She needs me out of their hands. She has to... she has to..._**  
  
_A gasp, if that's what it could be called. They didn't even have the decency to warm the liquid before flushing it into his tube, drowning him._ _Killing him. But only for a time. They wouldn't let him die anymore than the eridium would. He prefered when they just stopped his heart. At least he'd learned to enjoy that, as sick as it sounded. But drowning? Time consuming, and hardly fun. Why they kept doing it in the first place was beyo-_  
  
**_Ouch. Oh, oh no that's worse than ouch, that's- that's bloody awful._**  
  
_So they're aim wasn't to drown him. This time. They were draining him, of- of something. He could feel it- the sting of needles and tubes prying beneath his skin, pulling something out of him that the eridium was eager to replace._ _What was it? What was it? What was left in him that they hadn't already taken? But he already knew, before the thought could break the fog of his mind. The were purging him of his own blood, allowing the eridium to soak in through, and replace it. Which was... well, it was gross, and it hurt. So it was definitely two things._  
  
****_You're all as good as dead. Mark it in stone, carve it into my soul. I won't be at your mercy forever._

 **_  
_ ** **_And then…_ **

  
**_Then I will show you no mercy at all._ **


	9. Handsome

_"The question isn't who is going to let me;_ _  
_ _it's who is going to stop me."_

\- Ayn Rand -  


  
  
  
**"Come in," T** imothy called from his desk, sliding some paperwork back into its designated folder as he looked toward the door and found the Courier entering. One look and Tim felt his gut clench with anticipation, "what happened? What did you find?"   
  
"Well, other than a fully automated turret system- a lot of recently killed scavs and Dahl members. Is that what had you sending us running over there for, eh?"   
  
Tim sat back with his eyebrows raised. "Dahl? No- I sure as hell weren't expecting any of them to be poking around on the Drakensberg. Are they- _were_ they Lost Legion?"   
  
"Why ask me? When you can ask the one that's still kickin' yourself." The Courier flashed a smile of off-white teeth. "Mind you, she seems to have taken some electrically amped grenade damage to her left side, and took a few bites from a turret- nothing Nina can't handle, but she _is_ Dahl, so she'll probably still be testy as hell even though we have technically just saved her life. Still, might be fun, I know you've got some weird thing for _feisty_ women, besides."   
  
Tim was caught between a simply look of unamusement and flat out glaring at the Courier. They'd followed along side Tim from the beginning, happily shedding any and all bonds that tied them to Hyperion the exact same moment Tim had gotten his chance, and while Tim's second source of comfort had been Nina herself, the Courier had somehow managed to end up a close third. Timothy quickly settled with a quick eye roll. "That's not- I- stop that. And anyways, if this soldier isn't apart of some revival of the Lost Legion, and is sent by the current Dahl, than I think our best bet is to give her a nice, warm welcome."   
  
"Ah," the Courier had a knack for catching on quick and was already beginning their way from the room. "I'll get the lads dressed in something a bit more... sunshine-y then. Should be ready and waiting for you when you get off the lift." With a wink, the Courier was out of Tim's office and he was left alone with his thoughts.   
  
It certainly didn't bode well for Elpis if Dahl was making a resurgence this soon after Helios had taken a nose dive towards Pandora- but he was certain this little introduction would put the surviving Dahl soldier in a cooperative mood. Assuming that their intel about Pandora and Elpis hadn't stretched back further than the fall of Helios, of course.

He could send word to the Council after he had something a bit more solid. Tim already knew they would just tell him to find out more information anyways- so why not skip the middleman and just get right to it?

* * *

  
Timothy honestly wasn't sure which was worse- the look of awestruck adoration on a zealot's face when they saw him, or the look of ice-cold terror that seemed to shake the Dahl soldier to the core when her eyes fell on him as he sauntered into Nina's infirmary.   
  
There were two ex-Hyperion guards dressed in their old yellow fatigues following a full step behind him, but quickly surpassed him to take over for the Elpian guards that had brought the soldier in. With a wordless nod from Tim, they shuffled out of the room, shivering quietly as they always did when they saw him in his all too familiar mask. Over on the other side of the room was a preoccupied Nina, rummaging through a drawer, or maybe a cupboard of sorts, clearly not caring about the sudden switch in atmosphere.   
  
He made sure to pause a good few feet from where the Dahl soldier was sitting, arms bound tightly behind her back, stripped of her Dahl-issued battlesuit so she was left in comfortable breeches and beige tank top, which matched nicely with the numerous bandages that covered most of her neck like a tightly pulled scarf, and also obscured most of her left side. Arms now crossed in front of his chest, he tilted his head to pin her with an intimidating glare, hopefully while giving off a vibe that suggested he was still wondering whether or not he planned to do anything with her or simply have her shot here and now.   
  
"I- I thought Handsome Jack was dead," the soldier broke the silence, hesitant, clearly not realizing that Tim hadn't said anything because he was still trying to plan out how he wanted to play this.   
  
"Yeah, I seem to be getting that a lot lately." He brushed off her question so casually she looked noticeably smaller, swallowing and leaning back as though he'd suddenly invaded her space. Mentally giving himself a shake, he searched his memories for what kind of inflections Jack might use. "Anyways! What the heck is Dahl doing back on Elpis? I thought I'd made it pretty clear that this was my turf- aren't there plenty of other border planets for you military-twits to screw over?"   
  
The Dahl eyed him, carefully, slowly, before she shrugged. She _shrugged_ at him. Apparently terror wasn't a lasting ailment for a Dahl soldier. "Naturally. But they don't have old Dahl members. We were sent to recall all Lost Legion members- a full haul of all those that had been so... unfortunately left behind when Dahl first left Pandora and Elpis."   
  
"I mean I get that you're Dahl, but are your sensors really that shitty that you couldn't tell that the Drakensberg was empty?"   
  
"I mean, I get that you're _Hyperion_ , but members of the Dahl Corporation are particularly well known for their survival skills. Not to mention that the Drakensberg had been a rather relevant ship back in it's prime- even if it lacked any personnel aboard, files, reports, _stuff like that_ ," she started as though explaining to a child, "would still be seen as important enough to my corporation for my team and I to look into. So sorry to burst you bubble, but we were here simply to for our own- we couldn't possibly care less about Hyperion's little hard on for Pandora or its moon."   
  
"Uh huh, suuuuuuuuuure, yeah, that's totally believable. You believe that, guys, right? Dahl's just pokin' around for their old comrades! I mean, gosh that's _so_ sweet. Really warms the heart, y'know?" He let a look of complete amusement spread across his face as he danced a few steps closer, keeping a picture of pure, and friendly intentions. Which was pretty damn hard considering he found nothing about the situation amusing. He was downright tired and his one wish at the moment was for the world to become a simpler place; that you could ask a question and boom! You got an honest answer in return. Wouldn't that be wild! "Now," he boomed suddenly, still smiling a friendly little grin. "How about you tell me what Dahl really wants, sweetheart- before things have to get all messy." At no point did he allow his tone to imply he was asking. He was demanding, simple as that.   
  
"Oooh. I'm petrified." She certainly made sure not to look it then, "trust me, _Handsome_ , there isn't a damn thing you Hyperion shit-wits can do to me that wasn't already apart of my training. You don't make Bravo by being a pushover."   
  
So, at least he knew she definitely wasn't Lost Legion. She was directly from the head office itself- or, head base, he supposed. Dahl was military based, and was run as such, corporation, so he really doubted he'd find any pencil pushers in their ranks. But what Hyperion might have lacked in brute destruction, they more than made up for in creativity.   
  
Looking from one ex-Hyperion guard to another, he gave a shrug. "I guess that's all then. Take her out and do your thing." He waved a hand as if even giving them an actual command were completely below him. He turned first, making for the exit when his gut twisted in anticipation and complete disgust for the next part. _She's Dahl, and she thinks we're Hyperion_ \- _obviously right there means she won't jump at the chance to give anything up about what Dahl is up too, so I have to come up with something..._ He made it seem as if a thought had only just crossed his mind, pausing in full and tapping a finger against the clasp on his chin. "Actually, you know what?" He let an edge of excitement creep into his voice as he spun around, "catch!"   
  
The soldier reacted by sitting up straight to avoid having what he threw smack her in the face. Looking down warily at what had landed in her lap, she scowled. "A shield? What? You gonna throw me outside and see if I can make it; for better or worse? I'll have Dahl on your doorstep before you can even take your afternoon shit!" She snarled. She was by far the most vulgar Dahl soldier Tim had ever had the displeasure of meeting.   
  
“Language, princess,” Tim made no haste in moving back toward her, stopping just shy of a foot from where she sat on the infirmary bed, towering over her, hands migrating to his hips. "And no, instead, my loyal guards here are going to take you down stairs, string you up and leave you with nothing but that shield while they call out the firing squad, and then, every so often, every single one of them are going to fire on you, ever so slowly depleting your shield until you're certain that it's going to give out- and then they'll stop. Just as your shield depletes itself- well, maybe they'll get a few good shots in, just for morales sake- but they'll repeat the latter over, and over, and over, and over again. You'll think you have your shields depletion time down to milliseconds- but then you just might start to notice something, that maybe, just maybe, the pauses between rounds are getting shorter, that your shield just isn't getting the time it needs to fully recharge. And hey, maybe they'll shake it up every once in awhile, ten seconds of steady fire followed by five seconds for your shield to recharge, or heck, there's really endless possibilities here now, isn't there? But hey, you're _Dahl_ . You probably do stuff like that for breakfast."   
  
She met his gaze with her own level of intensity- albeit a great deal less intense than his own- and his was forced. Definitely, definitely, forced. "You're bluffing. It would be a complete waste of ammunition besides." Trying to undermine his idea with logic, not bad. Cute, actually. But Tim already had a response to such a thing in mind. A flash of pearly whites, topped with a smirk.   
  
"Not really, once you factor in the entertainment value. I mean, watching you squirm while you're under fire, the bullets pinging off you. If we get enough rounds in, we might even get a pool going- guess how many bullets it takes to deplete Dahl's shield! Hell- we could even swap it out for other shields every now and again. You could be our own personal tester for shield endurance- or gun specs. Endless possibilities there, pumpkin." He gave her a good natured smack on the side of her leg, winking as he did so. "Take her away," his playful expression dropped as he turned, pacing himself carefully so he didn't turn to quickly. He could feel Nina's eyes on him, and his mind lingered for a moment, wondering if maybe he still needed to up the ante. Meeting her gaze, he didn't know whether he was glad to find her expression unreadable. Did she think he was serious, would she approve if he was? What about the ex-Hyperion guards? They had worked closely with Jack once or twice, sure, but they followed after Timothy for a reason, hadn't they?   
  
He turned, meant only for a brief peek, to find that the soldiers were doing exactly as he said. The shield had been put in place on her hip, and they were putting effort into getting her to her feet as struggled against them, before going limp. "Wait, please-" she swallowed hard, seeming to finally come to a sobering realization that while the human body was capable of taking a lot of shit- the mind could only withstand so much. Whatever sense of loyalty Dahl had attempted to instill her with evaporated on the spot. "I don't... I don't want that."   
  
But Tim found his mouth shooting off before his mind could catch up. "You sure? I was just about to put the order in for some popcorn! We're could make a real show it." A pout pursed his lips, and for the briefest of moments he had to question whether or not he was actually disappointed that the soldier had given in so quickly.   
  
The soldier glowered at him, and both guards seemed to stiffen, no doubt shocked at how he'd responded as if on complete reflex, on instinct. And while he had, it wasn't what he would call on-purpose. "I'm sure."   
  
Tim allowed his stance to relax; clapping his hands together unceremoniously. "Oh goodie, then why don't we start simple then. You got a name, princess?"   
  
"Hong Xu." 

* * *

  
The soldier still wasn't the chattiest of people. She actually seemed to still find it in herself to ask _him_ questions. Mostly about the rest of her squad, which Tim could understand, but when someone had just threatened not only your life, but your sanity, less than half an hour beforehand, it seriously irked the hell out of him that she'd already be trying to push her luck and avoid answering any of his questions.   
  
"Yeah, how about this, you answer my question, then I'll answer yours. We'll go back and forth- or y'know, we can go all the way back to square one, if you'd prefer that." The set up had some what changed. The guards had pulled up some makeshift stools over at one of the counters where they were currently only semi invested in a card game that Nina was the dealer of. The soldier, Xu, was still bound but sitting at the end of her bed, while Tim was now sitting at the end of one of the infirmary beds opposite her's so they facing one another.   
  
"I... Well, I'm not exactly in a position to argue-"   
  
"You are not."   
  
"Right," she gritted her teeth for a moment, "so ask your question."   
  
Tim took a moment, making sure to keep his eyes still on her as he considered. See, the real reason he'd even bothered sending anyone out to the old Dahl ship had been because he'd noticed some wacky signals as of late- and while he had almost been certain it had solely been because of the Dahl squad that Xu had been a part of- now he couldn't be so sure. Back when the Elpis resistance had been young, and nothing more than a minor inconvenience to Hyperion, the Drakensberg had been turned into a sort of outpost- and during that time, the ship’s systems had been given a complete re-coding so that they recognized two people, and two people _only_ . Himself, and one other who had been working as the face of the little rebellion since Tim hadn't exactly been in the best position to do so himself. The problem now was that, when that person had gone missing, Tim had everyone left in the remains of the ship pack up and abandon, leaving the place a silent and empty shell. So the fact that the system had obviously been booted back up and was now running meant one of two things, that someone had managed to hack a system that he'd gone through great lengths to make impossible- or that his old friend had risen from the grave; because they were _dead_ , for nearly four years now.   
  
But since Tim was now at the command of Elpis, he couldn't exactly start badgering the soldier about anything like that. Not directly anyways. No, all of his questions needed to at least sound like he was keeping Elpis' safety in mind. At least to the other three in the room. "Why did Dahl send you to the Drakensberg? You started there- why?   
  
"It was where we were supposed to find an old military AI. And believe it or not, we were actually hoping to find some of the Drake's old crew. But our bot didn't find the AI anywhere on the ship. And the place was barren... well, except..." she trailed off, looking away.   
  
"Except?"   
  
Her eyes snapped back to him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You ask then I ask. I answered yours, now you answer mine."   
  
Tim considered threatening her into dropping the bullshit, but he was already starting to feel the physical weight of the mask on his face. No need to add more mental stress. "Fine. Ask yours."   
  
"What do you know about the Drakensberg?"   
  
Tim gave her a dull stare. "Wow. Couldn't have been any more broader than that, huh? Wanna try slimming it down a bit?"   
  
"Hey, you didn't specify-"   
  
"Yeah I get it. I’ll humour this round so, uh... well, after Dahl jumped ship and left the Lost Legion, it was taken over by an old, I guess by that time ex- Dahl guy renamed the Bosun. I guess all the crew that had survived the crash ended up following along with him, becoming a serious scav gang. And the AI? Renamed the Skipper by the Bosun himself. You won't find her there because Han- _I_ repurposed her to help me when I needed to kick the Lost Legion's ass off my space station." He almost forgot he was still pretending to be Jack. And while he was pretty sure he could have gotten away with talking in third person, he decided it was probably best not stretch this farce any further than need be. He didn't want to start slipping to far back into old habits. "The place got wiped cleaned, end of lesson."   
  
"Obviously not clean enough- but speaking of your space station, I heard it was sent crashing to Pandora. What's that about then?" Tim doubted her tone could've gotten more snide even if she wanted it too.   
  
"Docked actually. Needed a new paint job, you know- well probably not- an entire space station is probably still too advanced for Dahl- but _anyways_ -" Timothy allowed his voice to rise enough to stop her from cutting him off as she began opening her mouth, which quickly closed again. "That's two questions from you, so now here are _my_ two- what _did_ you find on the Drakensberg and, while I can understand Dahl wanting to recover an AI, can't say I can relate when it comes to people- unless there was a particular someone- in which case, who was it?"   
  
Xu opened and closed their mouth a few times before they finally settled with just answering his questions instead of having a fit. "Alright, well first of all, not a what, but a who. I didn't get a good look at them, but it was a singular person. And they were damn crafty, had something about their suit I reckon that had them hidden from our heat seekers- but it didn't completely hide them from their own, the daft bastard." She paused, which gave Tim's stomach enough time to start knotting itself up. _They always talked about making suits that would hide everyone from the Helios' heat sensors_ , a little voice whispered in the very back of his mind. "And secondly, not a who, but a what. Dahl might not have cared enough to notice back when they first started poking around Pandora and Elpis, but now after both Atlas and Hyperion; albeit supposed for the latter I presume- have met some interesting ends and, or, gains due this whimsical Vault business, they certainly know what was hiding amongst their ranks now."   
  
"And that was?" Tim wasn't exactly a fan of dramatic pause.   
  
"A siren."   
  
Tim was infinitely glad that he was sitting with his feet flat against the floor, and his hands placed against the mattress on either side of him, otherwise he was certain he would have fallen over. A near palpable silence seemed linger throughout the room, the only sounds he could hear being that of himself and those around him breathing, his own heart beating, and Nina slowly shuffling her deck of cards, certainly not with the same fervor as before Xu had dropped that little bomb.   
  
"That's a lie." He had to force the words to leave his lips. There was no way there was a siren on Elpis. Hyperion would have plucked them out of the rubble the second Jack had become "king" of Helios. There would have been no hiding. Handsome Jack had been like a prized blood hound when it came to hunting those down.   
  
Xu was first to relax, rolling her eyes. "Well there _was_ a siren. She's dead now, we knew that much before we even came to Elpis. Thing is- we don't know exactly if she didn't, y'know, pass that siren thing along, if you follow."   
  
"I don't."   
  
Xu blew out a long, exasperated sigh. "Hyperion's never do their homework, do they? Okay look, even if you just get hired on as outside or extra help, Dahl gives you a chip, embedded in your skin, and, uh, while it can't necessarily always be used to locate you, it does manage to keep track of your vitals- that's how we know she's dead. But she had _kids_ . Now, no one really knows all that much about sirens, yeah? Except there can only be six at a time, they gotta be girls, you know identity and all that- but what we can only guess at, is that maybe if a siren has a little girl, maybe that gets passed along, maybe not, guess it depends on how the powers change over, if it's a from-birth thing, or an acquired thing when another siren kicks off- but a fact is still a fact- there was a siren working among Dahl, she died sometime before or after what you all call the Crackening, and she left a pair of little ones. They didn't get chipped, because they were kids, and Dahl strictly states that if you bring 'em with, they're your responsibility beyond that. Are you following along now?"   
  
"Yeah. You're saying that since Dahl was misinformed about, uh, _my_ health, they thought they'd swing by and pick up the chore by looking into whether or not they could just pick up some kid like the wonderful saviours they are and magically get to cracking open a Vault. I mean, I can see where you're coming from. Atlas was rumoured to have a siren, as was Hyperion, so I can see why Dahl would assume they needed one too. But there's a shit-ton more to it than that."   
  
"Hence why we were also looking into finding old Legion members. Since they had already opened a Vault according the records we had and then also found aboard the Drakensberg. But hey, since Hyperion is apparently still kicking, why not form a truce with Dahl? Say what you like, but we do know for a fact that your Helios Space Station didn't go down to Pandora on purpose. And if you're stranded up here on Elpis, I don't see why Dahl wouldn't mind being generous."   
  
"Tempting as that is- I'm not stranded, and I'm certainly not about to do Dahl any goddamn favours- or do you think I just forgot about what the Lost Legion pulled on Helios when it was still in it's building stage?"   
  
"Fair- but by then Dahl had already rescinded its claim on the Lost Legion." She smiled, even batted her eyelashes. But Tim wouldn't have trusted her as far as he could throw her. And admittedly, Jack wouldn't have either. Actually, no, he had a bit of dumb streak when it came to Vaults, and getting rival corporations to eat out of his hand. Tim could remember that much about the man.   
  
"Yes, but now Dahl's come crawling back onto the scene to make nice with their old Legion, haven't they?" Tim knew if he kept throwing logs this fire would continue to burn back and forth but he honestly couldn't help himself. Luckily Nina seemed to have something far more important as she came butting between him and the Dahl soldier.   
  
"For you," she stuck an ECHOcomm directly in his face, along with an image of the Courier.   
  
"Oh, thanks. Uh, I'll leave you to chat with her then, I'm sure you've got your own questions." While his face was hidden from Xu through Nina, he made sure to give an appreciative smile before heading for the exit, knowing better than to give any sort of 'excuse me,' with the soldier's eyes watching after him with a befuddled expression. She would later probably come to her own conclusions that he'd gotten bored with the conversation after it had veered away from the possibility of there being a siren on Elpis."Hey? What's up?"   
  
" _Not having much fun, are you? You seem on edge_ ," the Courier seemed to be putting whatever they'd rung Tim for on the shelf as they looked at him critically.   
  
"Yeah, I am, can you get to the point?"   
  
" _Okay, okay_ , _Mr. Hyperion_ , _calm your cheeks_ ." The Courier seemed to need a second to switch from shoulder-to-cry-on back to business-to-discuss. " _So, I headed back to the Drake, and you remember how the system was all set up? Well, no one hacked it. So unless we have, y'know_ another _doppelganger on the loose, or someone's figured out how to raise the dead, I'd say you're old partner in crime wasn't mistaken for a bullet sponge after all. That and using some of those system tricks you've taught me, I've managed to get a feed of what happened when the Dahl soldiers started headbutting bullets and scavs alike. And there was definitely someone else here. Someone small enough and crafty enough to do this_ -" the Courier shifted their device to show Tim what he immediately recognized as Felicity's old housing unit, except... a very big portion of it was missing.   
  
"What in hell happened there?"   
  
" _Been lookin' over the schematics- had paper copies, real fancy- and apparently it was originally meant to suffice for ejecting the AI's core in case of emergencies, but from what I got from the feed, our little bastard gutted it out and made 'imself a proper escape pod. Which as you can see, he used_ ."   
  
"Well, shit. I mean, isn't there like a control panel or something that could give us an estimate of where it went?"   
  
" _Oh, aye, and here's what's left of that bugger now,_ " the Courier showed Tim the image of a control panel quite literally blown apart. " _I'm for thinkin' they didn't want to be followed."_   
  
Tim bit back an aggravated sigh. So not only did he have to worry about Dahl poking their nose around, but now he had the first real sign that maybe he had been right- that maybe they still had the chance to locate him, after all this time.   
  
Just that thought alone nearly made him forget that he had someone in interrogation just on the other side of the wall he had at his back. _No, I won't tell her yet. I'll wait and see if the Courier can find anything else, get some hard evidence before I got getting her hopes up too._ Tim made sure to take a long, calming breath before going back into the infirmary, quickly finding himself creeping along when he noticed Nina was in fact in the middle of chatting with Xu.   
  
"I ask. You answer. Give me the name."   
  
Xu seemed even more disgruntled taking orders from Nina then when Tim had been sitting across from her, hounding her with questions. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I prefer talking to Handsome Jack. But fine, because I'm more than sure your stare alone could break my bones- the siren's name was... oh fuck, what was it..."   
  
"Stalling won't help when Nina is concerned," the battle-hardened nurse began to rise from where she'd taken up Tim's seat.   
  
"I'm not, I just... damn, Urquhart would have known right off the top of his stupid little head- oh! Elu! It was _Elu_ . Her name was Elu Pickle."   
  
This time, there was nothing bracing Tim to stop him from tripping over his own damn feet and falling over.


	10. Step by Step

_"I have survived. I am here._

_Confused, screwed up, but here."_

\- Laurie Halse Anderson -  


  
**His head f** elt heavy, his limbs numb and still tingling as he pulled free from the grasp of a deep sleep. Dazed and confused by his surroundings, he willed a hand up to his forehead, taking far more effort than he'd have liked as he massaged a temple and blinked at the ceiling that pulsated with violet designs.

 

"Ah," he hummed, rolling his shoulders against the rock table beneath him, attempting to wet his lips, but finding his tongue felt just as heavy as the rest of him, and his mouth dry. After a moment of just frowning upwards, a thought skittered across his mind and he brought his hands up to his eyes, clenching and unclenching the stiffness from them before he inspected each of his fingertips. To Pickle's relief, they weren't bleeding tainted eridium anymore- they were however, stained with curious swirling lines; no two designs the same.   
  
But choosing to think more thoroughly about what that could mean later, he started moving his body, shaking the stiffness from his limbs as he started to roll over onto his side; managing to nearly soil himself when he came face to face with Aris. "Oi! What'cha fink you're doin' 'ere? Nearly given me an 'eart attack!" Pickle blew out an exasperated breath, one hand placed candidly to his chest.   
  
The kraggon merely snuffed, booping their nose against his before dragging their cheek against his as a sign of good greeting. This succeeded in making Pickle relax at least.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, s'good to see you too." Pickle rolled his eyes, pulling back so he could swing his feet carefully over the edge of the table. As he did so, Aris moved to not only give him room, but to also offer their side to be used as support.

Any other day, Pickle probably would have brushed off such an action, but even as he was only sitting, he could feel how shaky his legs were- weak from lack of use. ' _ow long 'ave I been in 'ere?_ He briefly wondered as he leaned his left side against the kraggon, amazed at how big Aris had apparently gotten during Pickle's brief out-of-commision period. While Pickle was in no way a large person, he distinctly remembered having a bit more height on the young kraggon- yet now Aris leveled just above his hip now, and had gotten a bit more width to themself as well.   
  
Step by step, they slowly made their way back along the small tunnel Pickle could hardly remember coming down in the first place. He certainly didn't remember it being such a tight squeeze either, but he could figure out the answer to why that was without much effort. Pickle was greatly disheartened to find the main cave empty of everyone. There were signs of where the nest had been made, and the place where his things from the clearing had been jumbled into a heap, but no sign of any of the other kraggons at all. "Where is everyone, Aris?" Pickle could feel his heart beating heavy in his chest as a multitude of possible scenarios crossed his mind in a flash; none of which were very pleasant. Thankfully before any of his fears verbalized into incoherent sobs, Gentle appeared at the cave entrance, shock and surprise clear upon her reptilian features as she saw Pickle and Aris hobble from the side passage she had apparently never even noticed.

 

Before Pickle could think to give a word of caution, she plowed into him, knocking him away from Aris and onto the cave floor where she sniffed and dragged her jagged tongue across his face, letting out all sorts of noises, from deeply concerned whines to soft affectionate hisses as she curled herself protectively around him as he could still recall seeing her do to the kraggon babes when they'd just been eggs. Deciding it was best not to argue with the overprotective mum, he did nothing more than shift so that he was being completely crushed by her. Gentle then made a sound to Aris, and without a response, they left the cave; leaving Pickle to assume Aris had been sent to round up the rest of the family.  
  
"Uh, good to see you too, Gentle." He smiled at her, feeling an incredible amount of warmth towards the kraggon, as he pressed his nose to her's and then instead of rubbing his cheek to her's, he snuggled his face against the spot where her jaw connected to her neck. Not only to symbolize that he was also happy to see her, but to let her know that all-and-all he was actually feeling quite fine.   
  
Her expression proved that she wasn't convinced of that, and then snorted at him, expressing the sentiment, "don't do that again!" Which Pickle merely gave a sheepish grin, showing the side of his neck to her so she could press her snout to his skin; both to show his acceptance and affection. "No worries, I don't plan on goin' anywhere near there again."   
  
It was that night that both the Mum's had insisted- or rather, forced Pickle to stay in the nest with them and the 7 babies- even though the babies were not exactly what one would think to call babies anymore. Near enough about 2 and a half to 3 feet tall each, Pickle had started to feel a touch claustrophobic, but eventually the warmth that the nest provided proved to be worth it; and it definitely wasn't something that he could afford to give up in his weakened state.   
  
As things were, he really wasn't much better than any one of the kraggon babies had been when they had first hatched. That being said, Pickle was still very certain that even at that age every single one of them was more than capable of benchpressing a moon buggy. And it was with those warm thoughts swirling around in his brightening mind that for the first time in awhile, he drifted into a peaceful and restful sleep.   


* * *

  
It took time, but with the help of the Mum's and their rough & tough gang of children, particular Aris; Pickle had gotten back onto his feet in a matter of a week, and building up his strength and stamina again until Tough seemed satisfied enough to allow him to leave the cave to go hunting with her and the young ones. All in all, his life took on a nice routine now. First came sitting with Gentle, observing as she taught her young about the practicality of their outer shells that they were now beginning to grow; of course Pickle had also begun to work on his own outer shell as he began studying the cryo vines, and the other interesting fungal vegetation of the Forested Cavern. Next came hunting in the soft glow of what Pickle fondly called Midday with Tough and soon with young ones trailing along too, which tended to last up until early evening, followed closely by one last big meal for the day. And then finally it was Pickle's time with the little kraggons in what was essentially play time, or 'see which kraggon can beat Pickle in a wrestling match', which mostly took little effort on any one of the kraggons’ parts.

 

  
  
But with the consistency that the routine gave Pickle, he actually found himself soon able to hold his ground against them; even managing to catch up quickly after they each went through growth spurts. Although there were still nights when Pickle was helpless against them when they decided to all tackle him together. It was all fantastic fun, and most nights Pickle couldn't even find it within himself to give in to his cherophobia. And even when it was finally bedtime for the young kraggons and their tired parents, Pickle still occasionally had a few hours to himself before he would fall asleep.  
  
It was on those nights that he found himself outside the mouth of the cave, staring out across the cavern, basking in the lilac glow of the jellies and a few indigo bioluminescent mushrooms that had sprung up around the outer edge of the Forested Cavern, that he pulled out his ECHOcomm. It was something he'd thought had been completely lost after the crash, but with a bit of tinkering, and some dismemberment of the pod's internal systems, he had actually managed to get it mostly working again. On most nights, he could catch static hisses of people trying to communicate over the ECHOnet, but he still didn't have a steady enough signal to get more than a whisper of conversation. From what he could remember about ECHOs, he assumed giving someone a direct ring would likely produce a better reception- but the only coordinates he could ever recall were for Janey, and there was no way he’d be able to boost his own frequency enough to establish a link to her. And even as he followed along the rocky trail that led up along the outer ring of the Forested Cavern, he couldn't think of what he'd even say to her.   
  
_Well, I'd probably say 'ello, but then what?_ He mused, clipping his ECHO to his side as he came to a rocky ledge that he had to flatten his back against the rock wall to sidle across until he reached wider ground.  
  
He hadn't really ever intended to bother with fixing his ECHO, really, but he was getting that feeling again lately- it wasn't the same as the one that made him feel like something bad was going to happen- it was more like he missing something, and he'd noticed that it always got stronger the longer he stayed in the cave. Although there were times when he was just out on a jaunt through the Forest when the feeling would grip him out of nowhere. It was the same feeling that had convinced him, what felt like forever ago, to even get into that damn ejection pod to begin with.  
  
Pickle paused as memories of the crash flashed across his mind. The briefest view of the vast, open, starry sky, the blaring sound of proximity warnings, glass and equipment strewn around him, and then when that, that- He had to pause in his walk, shaking his head back into the present. He hadn't seen hide nor hare of the damn thing since the crash- so he had been content to equate it to a hallucination brought about by a concussion he would have almost definitely gotten from the crash. Swallowing thickly, Pickle looked down at his ECHO to see it was still place before looking first out across the quiet Forest; now having gotten to a height that put him at eye-level with the tops of the funky trees, then he glanced up along the jagged rock wall where he spotted the small alcove he'd noticed a day ago while he'd been out hunting. It was a perfect distance from the top of the Cavern and where he stood now that he was convinced he might get a better signal and maybe even catch someone over the ECHOnet. Then maybe he'd finally shake this feeling of his.   
  
Making it up to the little alcove with a surprising amount of ease, he was pleased as punch to find that it was a perfectly shaped nook for him to squeeze inside- and that while there were a few sparse indigo mushrooms, there were none of those suspicious cannibalistic jellies.   
  
Tucking himself into the hole with his back pressed firmly against the rock, he nearly jumped out of his own skin when after a brief zap of static, a song started to sound through his ECHO; apparently having gotten a strong enough connection to net that it caught onto a stream. It wasn't a particularly lyrical song; mainly just instrumental with the occasional vocalization, but it was the first real, genuine thing he'd heard from the surface in... well, he hadn't really been keeping the best of tracks on how long he'd been underground for.   
  
With a triumphant grin, he settled with his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed one over the other with his ECHO on his lap. He started to doze off after a while, the sounds of music cutting in and out occasionally giving way to static. The songs seemed to switch seamlessly, as well as endlessly; and Pickle had never felt more at peace, eventually curling over on his side, with ECHO up beside his face; one leg stretched out far enough that it hung out of the lip of the alcove; his head too swept up in the music playing beside him for him to even consider what sort of dangers could be lurking just outside, waiting to grab a hold of his exposed limb.  
  
Sleep had only just sunk it's gentle teeth into him when the music cut out, and for a few moments, Pickle was content to leave it be and continue to drift off, until he realized the sweet vibrations of chords had been replaced with a automated rippling beep. A frown etched itself across his mouth as he propped himself up on one elbow, eyeing his ECHO curiously.  
  
Someone was trying to call him.  
  
Someone was... trying to... call him..  
  
"Someone is tryna call me..." He tilted his head, his brain slow to catch up to the stated fact. "Oh my god!" Pickle gasped, sitting up straight, the top of his head only just brushing the top of the small alcove as he picked his ECHO up with both hands. "Someone is tryna _call_ me!" _What- what do I do? Who is it? Why? Wait- wait what if- what if it's just a wrong number sort of thing?_ Pickle found himself waiting- waiting for that feeling to grip him- the one that had convinced him to do plenty of other silly things that all-in-all ended up turning out fine.   
  
But it didn't come. All he felt was anxiety and anticipation twisting his gut around. And on the seventh ring, he answered against all reason.  
  
He stared as the screen become blank for a moment, before static crawled across the   
screen, eventually stabilizing to show a face just as surprised as his own. "Jack?"  
  
_"Ex- excuse me?"_ Came a completely repulsed response, their masked face turning completely sour. " _I- I, oooh, shit, wait- wait, wait, wait_ -" They disappeared from view, and for a time and all Pickle could hear was some rustling and then sounds of stuff being dropped- or possibly knocked over, he couldn't really tell. In another moment, they were back, maskless with a mess of brown hair an expression that seemed all the softer despite their bone structure and general appearance still being the same as the dead man's. _"Sorry about that!"_  
  
Pickle blinked slowly as he took in the freckled face of the doppelganger. "Oh. You're- you're... _you_..."   
  
The an awkward moment passed as the doppelganger seemed to shift, their face giving a way that he apparently had been expecting Pickle to say a little more than... that. " _You- you remember who I am, don't you?_ "  
  
"I- yeah, I just..." how exactly could he casually mention that he was having a near fatal panic attack? He'd spent roughly three years in near complete isolation, and now suddenly there was someone- someone he'd been actually rather good friends with looking him directly in the face. "I'm Pickle."  
  
The man blinked at him in rapid succession. _"I... I am aware of that. You're also alive, which would have been nice to know before now. Like, four years ago would have been a great time for you to show up and go,_ "I'm Pickle" _because everyone thinks you're dead, kid."_  
  
"Oh."   
  
" _Oh? That's- Pickle, are you okay? Where- where the heck even are you? Why didn't you ever contact me? I can understand you probably needed some distance but four years? You could have at least dropped a line my way- you're alive!_ "  
  
Despite the concern clearly written across the man's face, Pickle felt personally attacked. He felt unsafe, and a feeling of claustrophobia settled around him as he started breathing heavily. "I couldn't," it sounded like a lame excuse, but as the doppelganger looked at him with those heterochromatic eyes filled with so many emotions, Pickle suddenly felt even smaller and afraid. "I want to wake up now." Was all he said before his finger found the spot on the screen that ended the transmission.  
  
He fought the urge to zing the damn device out the alcove entrance, and instead favoured placing it down on the ground and moving away from it, at least as far as the small space would allow him too. His hands wiped viciously at the spots beneath his eyes as he felt tears welling up and spilling out across his cheeks as he tried to focus on something- anything but what had just happened. All he could hear, over and over and over again was the doppelganger's, sounding almost accusingly, 'you're alive!'.   
  
He was alive.  
  
Why should he feel so much hatred toward the man for pointing it out? He knew that everyone would have thought him dead- they had too. Why did he- why did he have to make it seem like Pickle had committed a crime for not shouting it loud across Elpis that he was alive?   
  
Leaning his head back against the rock, he looked up towards the ceiling that was just an inch or so from his face, momentarily surprised to see a small vein of eridium pulsating through the dark stone above him. Pickle chose to focus on that now instead, working to match his breathing to the throbbing glow of the element. One last tear slid down his cheek before he seemed to finally pull himself back together. Little by little, piece by piece. With all the cracks and chips, he was far from whole, but he was still there. Still doing his best to put up a good fight.  
  
He took one final, deep inhale before his eyes traveled back toward his ECHO, the screen already a light as it was rather clear that the doppelganger was trying to contact him again. He'd've weighed his options, but he honestly didn't have any. Leaning forward, he tapped the screen, accepting the call.  
  
Static buzzed momentarily as the link was re-established, but that was only a prelude to more silence, which lasted about a minute. " _Are you actually there, or did I get an answering machine?"_  
  
The meek, almost sheepish tone really didn't suit the voice it came with. With a soft growl, he allowed a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth before clearing his throat. "Yes, this is the answer... uh... box? Of Davis Pickle, please leave a message after the beep. Beep."  
  
" _Oh- I mean... Ugh, I hate answering machines. Alright, here goes, uhhh, hey there, Pickle, it's just, y'know, me again. Tim. Just wanted to... Well, I wanted apologize, I guess I was being a bit of a dick?"_  
  
Pickle snorted, "did you really phrase that like a question?"  
  
_"Shush, you're an answering machine, remember? Anyways, yeah I was being kind of a prick. Period, no question mark. But it's just been a while, and what I said prior still stands._ _But if you get this, maybe we can skip over all that boring stuff and just chat, y'know? Talk about the weather, or rather lack thereof."_ There was a pause, that continued for a time, until Pickle was actually leaning forward to see if the Doppelg- _Tim_ , was still there. " _Can you please just say something? Just let me know you're alright?_ " Crackled through his ECHOs speakers in a defeated tone.  
  
And that was all it took for Pickle to need to wipe his hands across his eyes again, dispelling the unexpected moisture buildup as he swallowed hard, opening his mouth to answer, but only managing to make a vague chirping sound. Which would have gotten his sentiment across fine if he hadn't been talking to a human being. Coughing as a quick cover, he, uh... Idk he took a steady breath, reaching for the ECHO to bring to back up to his face. "I'm fine."  
  
Tim looked momentarily surprised by the fact that Pickle had faced his ECHO back towards himself, but the doppelganger also seemed to decide not to comment on that. " _Fine? Are you sure? Because you kind of look like shit."_  
  
Pickle scowled at him, making an indignant growl. "You ain't one to talk like that! Try lookin' in a mirror sometime, you'll find you ain't exactly much to look at!" A part of him was aware that Tim was just trying to lighten the mood by getting a rise out of him- but _still_!  
  
Tim merely laughed at him. " _Yep, no, definitely can't argue with that_."  
  
The brief silence that came next was far from awkward now, and was actually kind of pleasant as Pickle relaxed against the rock, watching as Timothy seemed to have been doing something prior to the call anyways, occasionally swaying off screen before coming back with a small cough. "So... how're you, then?"  
  
Tim seemed to be swaying from foot to foot as he considered the question. " _I mean, things have certainly been taking a turn for the better lately. Recently got our hands on the Coordinator- do you remember him?_ "  
  
Pickle's brow furrowed for a moment as he thought about it. "Yeah, I fink I remember 'em. S' good you got a hold of them. Might be a little late, though. You got slow after I left, or what?" He felt a small stab of pain in his gut over his own wording; but for now it was probably best that Tim continued to think Pickle had disappeared by choice.  
  
" _I wouldn't say slow exactly- it's just, a lot of Hyperion's personnel went pretty far off the radar after that document leaked and half of_ _Elpis, and even a few Hyperion's, went all out against the corporation over how out of order what they'd done was. It’s weird actually, Hyperion completely wiped Theta off the map_ _and honestly, almost everyone just hung their head and… well, your little stunts and the torching of Providence was pretty much it, but after the broadcast of your death paired with Theta? Everyone's out killing in the streets_."  
  
Pickle didn't quite follow what Timothy meant, and even if it wasn't clear enough on his face, his words made it obvious. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Tim paused, studying his face through the screen, " _you don't know about that? I_ -" Tim let out a long sigh, this time not even having the courtesy to step off screen before taking a drag from his cigarette. " _Alright, well, about a month after you first disappeared, a file came across my desk relaying that you'd been captured by Hyperion and put in front of the firing squad, blah blah blah, crimes against Hyperion- it was actually an incredibly extensive list of crimes._ _Anyways, then, before I could look into it, a mole for the resistance- who I guess had no idea I was on their side- decided to swipe the documents and broadcast it across Elpis. And as I already said, Elpis took exception to that."_  
  
Pickle's eyes widened. He hadn't thought anything like that would have happened. Not over his ‘death’, anyways. It was true enough that Tim had used him as the face of the rebellion against Hyperion- which seemed fair since half the anti-Hyperions would only answer to Pickle either way- and that that also meant almost everyone knew his name. Hyperion, anti-Hyperion, normal civilians and remaining scavs alike had some idea of who he was. And most of those exploits had been publicized- but Tim was right about one thing, that all it took was his death for people to actually stop and realize what kind of people the corporation was being run by. "I can't- I mean... Did that really happen?”  
  
" _Uh, which part? The firing squad part? Because probably not, unless you're immune to bullets- but the mobs of pissed off people definitely did happen. There are still a few ECHOvids floating around on the net that were taken to keep record of the event. Not that you'll want to see those, they get into some pretty gruesome detail."_  
  
"Oh," Pickle found himself not quite enjoying where the conversation was headed. "No, no I definitely don't want to see that. Ever." Pickle had had some idea that there were people that hadn't taken his death well, but what Timothy was implying was… well Pickle thought it sounded a bit ridiculous.  
  
_"Yeah, so switching gears away from the boring stuff- and to more accurately answer your question; I've been good. How've you been?"_  
  
Even though he saw that question coming, it still managed to throw him off and make him take pause. "Decent?"  
  
_"Is- is that a question?"_  
  
"Ah... no?"  
  
" _Pickle_." There was a seriousness in the man's tone that made him shrink a bit. It's not like he was purposely being difficult, he just didn't really know how to answer. Was he supposed to relay to Tim that he'd only just gotten over death, that he could hear strange whispers in a long dead language and every time his mind turned over the idea of leaving the Forested Cavern he felt pins and needles in his gut? Because that all sounded like a lot to dump on someone you hadn't talked to in four odd years.  
  
"You wanna see a scar I got recently?" He blurted out, immediately regretting as he tried vainly to backpedal. "Actually wait, never mind, look at this mushroom instead, ain't it somethin'?"  
  
" _Pickle, I-_ "  
  
"There's actually a whole bunch of 'em down 'ere. All sorts of colours, depending on the heat exhibited by the rocks- see when the rocks are cold, it's actually a lot brighter around, 'cause these mushrooms that glow red and yellow feed off the cold, s' quite interesting actually, 'cause that makes it cold durin' the day, but warmer durin' the night. Anyways, these indigo buggers come out at night, they don't really glow as bright though, and there ain't as many of 'em, but they're pretty ain't they?"  
  
" _I mean, yeah, but what were you saying about_ -"  
  
Pickle found himself incapable of not cutting the man off as he scooted around the alcove, eventually getting to the mouth of the small cave and swinging his legs out over the lip, holding the ECHO out to show the darkened Cavern. "And then, if ya look up, you can see these jelly sort of creatures- nasty little pricks, actually. They're cannibalistic, from what I can tell, and all they really do is make light. Oh, yeah, and down there is an actual forest- you can't see it 'cause it's dark, but it really is down there-"  
  
" _Where the hell are you?_ "  
  
"Oh! I'm right here, I'm just holding the ECHO out-"  
  
" _Pickle_."  
  
"No, really, hi again!" Pickle chirped, briefly holding the ECHO back to face him, waving before turning it back around. "Anyways, as I was sayin'-"  
  
" _Pickle, just stop, okay buddy? You're- you're kind of going overboard here_." Tim finally managed to get a genuine sentence in. " _Just calm down a bit, please_."  
  
His mind buzzed, the area around seemed to be in an incredible amount of focus as he tried to take a moment to consider Tim's words. So maybe he was kind of going off the deep end, but who could blame him? "I- sorry, I just... Sorry, it's been awhile, I guess, I'm not..." Pickle let out a deep breath, letting the ECHO back gently on his lap, facing up. His attention started to wander as he watched a lone rathyd dodge in and around the stalactites, the lilac light from the jellies reflecting against the creatures smooth skin, actually succeeding in making him calm himself down a bit more.   
  
" _Starshine_."

His attention snapped back to his ECHO. But he couldn't conjure anything more than a click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he tried to relax his features so he wasn't glaring.   
  
" _How long has it been?"_  
  
"What'cha mean?"  
  
" _Since you've actually talked to someone. When was the last time?"_  
  
He didn't like that question. Made him think, made him make a brief clicking sound in the back of his throat as he pondered. "A while, I guess. I was on the Drakensberg, and the computer could talk, but that don't really count now does it? No, it's gotta be over a year now since I last had a conversation with someone, I guess. Unless kraggons count?"  
  
Tim just stared at him for moment, having long finished his cigarette, he really didn't have much else to do except try and wrap his head around what kind of situation the kid was in. " _You really aren't hanging in there too well, are you?"_  
  
Pickle puffed his cheeks out, making a grumpy expression. "I'll 'ave you know that I am doin' just dandy, mista. I don't need people to be alright, alright? I've been doin' just fine on me own. 'Sides the fact that if it weren't for people bein' generally dis'onorable I wouldn't even be 'ere."  
  
Tim looked like he had more to say on the subject, and wanted to question a lot of what Pickle had just said, but had decided it was probably best to steer away from this topic as well. " _Okay, alright, calm down, buddy. I didn't mean it like that._ "  
  
Pickle grumbled in the back of his throat, but equally accepted that it was probably best to leave this topic alone. First person he's talked to in forever, it'd be a shame for it to end just like that because he threw a fit. Silence stretched on again, Tim finally managing to finish the cigarette he'd been sucking back on, and Pickle just... sat back against the rock again. It was a few solid minutes before Pickle spoke up again. "How's Concordia?"  
  
The doppelganger's head bobbed from side to side as he considered his answer. " _Not bad. Everyone's been pretty much just… going on with life like usual since Helios fell, and the Zealots that haven't gone running off the grid yet pretty much have turned themselves in too. Elpis is pretty much back to_ _the way it was, so... not the best, but better than it was, I guess._ "  
  
Something else crossed Pickle's mind as Tim spoke. "What about... Have you heard anything about Eliza?"  
  
A frown deepened across Tim's features, something that he apparently did a lot judging by all the stress lines present on his face. _"Eliza?"_  
  
"Yeah... my sister..." Pickle could put two and two together, and knew that Tim had probably already figured out that Eliza had been the one that had put Pickle in the position to be captured by Hyperion. Tim had been the one to send him a warning against her after all, even if it had arrived too late.  
  
The look that crossed Tim's face did well to tell him that the doppelganger was aware of what Eliza had done, after a sigh, he answered. _"Can't say I understand why she'd be the first person you ask about, considering, but I couldn't tell you even if I wanted too. There's been no record of her around Elpis since the surveillance showing her getting her pay from Hyperion after her betrayal."_  
  
Pickle's gut clenched at that word. Betrayal. Technically, that was accurate, but it still didn't sound right. Didn't feel right. Pickle still held onto the idea that there was more to the story than just that. That Eliza hadn’t done it purely out of the cruelness of her own heart. "Oh."  
  
Tim didn't seem to like his response. But Pickle also couldn't be sure since the doppelganger's face had become next to unreadable. " _Yeah. Oh_."  
  
Pickle felt that feeling creep over him again, his chest feeling heavier than it did a few moments ago. Maybe they'd been talking for long enough? Maybe it was time to let the conversation go- pick it up some other day? Tim swayed on his end, and for a moment Pickle caught sight of what had been an unfocused background. "Are you outside?"  
  
" _Huh? Oh, yeah, I am, actually. No, uh, no smoking on the inside since all the air just gets re-filtered and all that, but out on the balconies there's bubble things set up and the air gets filtered into the atmosphere- or lack thereof. I'm on ground level of course, heights, plus me, no mix..._ "  
  
"Mm, yeah, don't really care so much about that- you got a view of the sky?"  
  
" _What? I mean, yeah, it's just up. Over too, since the moon is round. Although there are still people who try to argue that_."  
  
"Can you show me? The sky I mean. 'Aven't seen it in a while..." he admitted.  
  
" _So you really are underground then, aren't you? I mean, I'm seeing all the rock- but like, how far down are you? Are you like_ -"  
  
"Tim, could you just-"  
  
" _Oh, yeah, sure, just gimme a second_..." Tim's end shook, and briefly all Pickle could see was static, until the imaging corrected itself and Elpis' perpetual night sky sprawled itself out in front of his eyes.   
  
Galaxies spiraled, so incredibly far away, and yet it was like they were right there, and he could even see Pandora, with it's strange violet gaseous thingy that had always piqued Pickle's curiosity. He could remember how it first appeared shortly after the Crackening had stopped on Elpis, but that was it. Maybe it had had something to do with one of the Vaults that had been opened on the planet, which had lead to the mining of eridium- tearing his eyes away from Pandora, he looked out across the expanse of space, his curious eyes jumping from star to star, as bits of information he remembered filtered into his mind. Like how every star was apparently a sun in some other far off galaxy, and how for every sun there were multitudes of planets, and asteroid belts, everything about space was brimming with possibilities. Like the code that had been in the towers in the Skipper's old chambers. All those possibilities and opportunities that Pickle could never access.  
  
" _Hey, starshine, you still there?"_  
  
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, thanks, I, uh. If there's one thing I do miss about the surface, it's gotta be this." Pickle forced a smile as Tim brought his ECHO back to show himself.  
  
" _Well, I guess that's as close as I'm gonna get to you admitting you're underground_."  
  
Pickle made a clicking sound again as he thought about the statement. "Yeah. But hey, I already showed you what I got instead of stars."  
  
" _Yes, in a blur and jumble of fading sanity_."  
  
"You're ruder than I remember, Vault Hunter."  
  
" _Hey, even after you were gone I still had to play the role of the world's biggest douche. Some habits unfortunately stick."_ Pickle kind of hated how easy it was to get Tim back onto a serious note. Although he supposed that that might have been one of the side-effects of playing both sides. " _But anyways, you're underground! What's that like? You've been mentioning kraggons a lot- are there some of those down there too?"_  
  
"Oh yeah, I've actually been, uh, indoctrinated into a family of them. I'm sor' of the weird uncle, actually." Pickle let out a small laugh that had bit more of an echoed chirp to it.  
  
_"Really? How- how does that work?"_  
  
"Well, I came across these two mums and their nest, and I dunno, I guess we just kind of hit it off from there. Now all the eggs 'ave hatched, there's seven of 'em by the way."  
  
_"Oh, wow. So you're actually, like, living with them? This isn't like a "you don't attack me, I don't attack you" sort of pact thing?"_  
  
"No- no, no, no. No, I am actually, yeah. We take care of one anovver down 'ere. O' course Tough don't really like it when I come fishin'; finks I set a bad example for the littlies when I use grenades to do it."  
  
Tim went silent for moment, and Pickle thought maybe the screen had frozen until Tim started to nod slowly. " _Oh-kay... well, that certainly does explain a few things. Like all the growling, and, uh, actually pretty much just that_."  
  
"What? I ain't been growling, I've just been conversatin' like a normal person." Pickle scrunched up his face, feeling defensive.  
  
" _No, sorry, kid, but you've definitely been making noises that normal people don't make. I thought maybe it was static for a while, but it is all just you. How- how long have you been down there?_ " Tim's face seemed to be a light as he laughed a bit.  
  
Unconsciously, Pickle started to make a rumble in the back of his throat, not particularly feeling fondly towards Tim's somewhat condescending tone. "Alright, you know what? Yeah, I've been down 'ere a while. But guess what? I've never felt better. I have never felt more like myself- and this place is amazing- the kraggons- my family- they are everything to me. And I don't care if it don't seem right to you. I feel- I feel like I'm meant to be 'ere, Tim, and I could happily spend the rest of my fork and knife life down 'ere."  
  
The doppelganger immediately seemed to sober. Probably realizing that he'd crossed some sort of line with his teasing. _"Hey, look, calm down a bit, okay, kid? I just... Yeah, okay, you got your kraggons- but in the long run, do you really think that's gonna be enough? I mean, aren't you gonna wanna be with people again someday?"_  
  
Pickle held his tongue even though he knew his answer. It was a solid no. A big ol' heck no. If he was asked today if he wanted to stay here for the rest of his unnatural life, never again being in arms reach of another human being again, he'd jump on the chance with both feet. If he lost his ECHO, and this was the last conversation he ever had with another person- he'd live with that. For the first time in his, albeit short, life, Pickle felt safe. He wouldn't give that up just for a little human connection. "I dunno, Tim. Maybe- maybe this is where I should be. I mean, if I'm alone, I'm safe." He hadn't actually meant to word it like that, but that's how it slipped out. And it's not like he had the energy to go off on a tangent that would distract the man from his wording.  
  
_"Safe? Safe from what? From Hyperion? Pickle, they're gone. What ever happened to you- whatever they did- they can't do that again. And you can't spend the rest of your life not living just because of the irrational fear of something that's in the past now."_ _  
_  
His face, his voice, they were all laced with concern and a softness that genuinely did make Pickle feel better; but ultimately not by much. After all, Tim had no idea what it was that had Pickle so afraid. As long as he was still alive, the fear of being used like that- there was always someone else out there with nasty ambitions and a disregard for other people. "Maybe you're right, but... even now; it's been three an' half years, and I'm still not prepared to risk it. Maybe that'll change, maybe it won't."  
  
Tim's face creased in a mix of pain and concern. _"What happened to you?"_  
  
"A lot of things," he left it at that. Letting the words hang in the air to show that Tim wasn't going to be getting that backstory today; if ever. "But I'm here, now. And no one can hurt me again."  


* * *

  
The conversation had shifted a few more times after that, Pickle had asked about Eliza a total of 3 times before the end of their talk, and Tim had refused to say any more on the matter than what he'd already said the first time Pickle had asked. When Pickle had finally made the suggestion that maybe they'd expended their time talking, Tim seemed reluctant to end the call, to say the least, only finally agreeing after Pickle told him he could echo him again the next day.   
  
Yet even then, the man seemed downright hostile. Which in turn only made Pickle want to end the conversation faster with a curt, " _you can either just trust me, an' give me an echo tomorrow night, or don't bother at all, and this'll be a permanent goodbye. Just know, I'm leavin' that up to you. So, possibly just fo' now, goodbye, Tim."_ And he ended the transmission without waiting for another word to leave the doppelganger's mouth, placing the device face-down beside him.

Sighing, he sat forward, swinging his legs gently over the mouth of the small cave, the heels of his boots bouncing lightly off the rock without rhythm or pattern. He made sure to keep the majority of his weight on the inside of the alcove, seeing as if he feel from this height he'd likely sprain- or even break- an ankle. And that certainly wasn't something he was prepared to deal with for a number of reasons. He tried to let his mind rest, and he placed his hands back behind him so he could slouch as his eyes glanced around the darkened, but far from silent, cavern. He admitted that it could compare to the stars, but it was still breathtaking in its own right.   
  
From the lilac jellies, to the eridium that peeked in and out of the rocky ceiling, and even spiralled some of the stalactites, and the indigo mushrooms that patterned out across the ceiling, and down the walls, not nearly holding the same brightness as their daykin did, but still making for a spectacular view. At this height, he could even catch little glimpses of other bioluminescent creatures- some of them Pickle assumed weren't all that different from torks, scuttled in and around the stalactites, almost like the ceiling of the Cavern were their floor.   
  
A sudden, and loud, shuddering noise came from the rock above the large cavern, making Pickle jump, pulling himself back away from the ledge as he peeked curiously out of the mouth of the cave. The rumbling continued for a short time, before it was like someone flicked on the sprinkler, the dots of eridium blinking out and a clear liquid started to drip out of the darkened cracks. At first it was just light sort of drizzle, and then it turned to serious downpour.   
  
And Pickle was positively enamoured. He eyed the few drops that had fallen just inside the mouth of his small hiding spot, trying to get a tell on what kind of substance it was. With a genuine, airy laugh, Pickle held his hands out to cup what he was now certain was just water. Classic H2O. "Always full o' surprises, ain't'cha?" The corners of his eyes crinkled as he continued to smile, pulling his hands back inside the cave to look at the collected pool of water in the palms of his hands. He wasn’t quite dumb enough to actually drink it, but he was fairly certain it wasn't harmful. With a wistful sigh, he held his hands back out over the edge and let what hadn't already filtered through the crevices of his hands fall from his fingers and down below. The water itself was actually rather warm, and Pickle was fairly certain that if he'd gotten any higher, it would have been scalding to the touch. But at this distance, it was a comfortable temperature. Perfect for bath water, one could say.   
  
Although he had every intention of making it back to the Kraggon's Cave, it seemed like having molten rain falling from the ceiling was a good enough excuse for him to stay put, and to just sit and enjoy the phenomenon. Steam was already beginning to rise off the tops of the Forest's trees, and over the patter of the rain, Pickle could still hear the faint calls and cries of the night cycle wildlife, chittering and chirping down below him. He leaned against the mouth of the cave, back just far enough that none of the drops would hit him, in case they should be a little more than just pleasantly warm.   
  
And while he enjoyed the spectacle, he was less than aware of just how much the Forest could calm him. Or how the pulsing of the vein of eridium above his head seemed to quicken, glowing more brightly until he was completely enveloped in a soft glow, which only subsided back into its smooth rhythm after he'd managed to finally nod off in the small cave, far above the Forest's floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art featured in this chapter courtesy of plintoon.tumblr.com


	11. Persephone

_"People, I have discovered, are layers and layers of secrets._ _  
_ ****

**_You believe you know them, that you understand them,_ ** _  
_

_but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts._

**_You will never know them,_ **

_but sometimes you decide to trust them."_

\- Veronica Roth -

\--*--*--

  
  
**Tim wasn't s** ure what he was supposed to be feeling right now. So he decided to just stuff his emotions in a nice decorative bottle and shelf it for later as he paced his office, taking a more critical approach to the situation instead.  
  
Pickle was alive.  
  
Pickle was inconveniently located very deep underground.  
  
Pickle also didn't seem like a very sane person.  
  
Timothy had tried to link his ECHOcomm to Pickle's on a whim, and then the fact that the kid actually answered had him completely off balanced. In shock. All the evidence on the Drakensberg had pointed to Pickle, but he never, _never_ , would have guessed that the kid was actually alive. A person doesn't just survive being taken by Hyperion. And if he really had been on the Drakensberg for any length of time- how the hell hadn't the kid tripped any of Tim's system firewalls? Pickle had always been one hell of a lucrative bastard, but tech had never been one of his stronger suits. He'd always just stuck to knowing enough to seem like he knew the shit he would try to sell off on people.  
  
That was the Pickle he remembered. Snarky, quick, and always ready to convince someone else to do things for him. Sure, some of that had changed over the time they'd worked  together, especially after what happened to Theta, but the person Tim just got off the comm with... They seemed like a complete stranger to him. Same voice- well a touch deeper, but the same inflections-, same wild hair, Pickle's base personality still poked through- but everything else was foreign. The sharpness in his gaze, the calculating flicker every time Tim had something that didn't exactly appeal to the kid. And sure, he looked older, because he was- but the familiar laugh lines were long gone, replaced by deeper lines that suited the face of someone in their mid thirties instead of mid teen years.  
  
He rubbed his forehead with his hands, almost like if he kept at it hard enough it would get rid of some of his own age lines. Pausing his pace, he folded his hands and placed them against his lips as he focused his thoughts strictly on what he would do next. Which, was actually rather simple.  
  
He wouldn't tell anyone. With the exception of one person, of course.  
  
Why?  
  
Well, with Dahl poking their nose around on Elpis specifically with interests towards the Pickle Family, the last thing he needed was having another Zarpedon trying to blow a hole in the moon to get at what was hidden beneath the surface. Even though last he was informed Pickle was a dude, and even if Dahl hadn't been lying about Mother Pickle being a siren, Tim somehow doubted she'd passed any sort of Siren-magic along to him. And that aside, pretty much everyone the kid actually knew was dead, or otherwise engaged elsewhere, and since Pickle hadn't exactly been keen to keep conversation up with Tim, he doubted the kid would want him screaming from the rooftops of Concordia that he was alive.  
  
But again, there was that one exception.  
  
He left his office without any real haste, his mind still picking apart every bit and piece of the conversation. One thing definitely stuck to the back of his mind. Pickle had said it had been at least a year since he last talked to anyone. But at the same time, he more or less admitted that he'd locked himself away inside the Drakensberg, until he ended up wherever he was now. And Tim was bright enough to figure out that the reason Pickle had left the Drake was because Dahl had thrown a wrench into his little isolation-operation. _Ooh, nice rhyme._  
  
"Sir," Tim looked up to notice that he'd made it to his destination faster than he'd anticipated, an ex-Hyperion soldier standing at attention before him.  
  
"Relax- or at ease? Anyways, I just need to head down to sub level 13."  
  
The guard blinked at him for a second, then seemed to realize they were still standing at attention. Relaxing back against their designated post, they cleared their throat. "Of course, sir. Are you-?"  
  
"Yes, and no, I won't need the key. Just keep my comm clear until I get back up here. No interruptions unless it's an absolute emergency. Clear?"  
  
"Crystal, sir." The guard had their pass scanned, and then held the elevator door while Tim stepped on.  
  
"Thank you." Tim stepped lightly, hands clasped behind his back as the elevator began its descent into the deepest part of Concordia- reserved for the highest level criminals that the Council hadn't come up with any particularly gruesome enough sentences to make up for their heinous crimes against Elpis.

Therefore, it mainly included Zealots that had completely gone off the deep end after the fall of Handsome Jack; a few Hyperion scientists and doctors that had lacked any sort of morality while working in the Facilities, and two or three Elpians that had taken the bribe from Hyperion to sell out whatever they had on Elpis' resistance. All of them were left in Timothy's care by the Elpis Humanitarian Council, that had only began to play a role on Elpis because Tim had suggested it, and then shortly after declined a seat on. Which managed to only strengthen how much Elpis looked to him, which was kind of the opposite of what he'd wanted.

Stepping off the lift with an air of importance, Tim began his strut to the end of the dimly lit hallway, ignoring the gazes of the prisoners he passed; learning long ago that if he expected to make it to the end of the corridor, it was best to avoid eye contact, and keep to the very center of the hallway. All the cells were made roughly the same, large enough to hold the necessities and allow a slight bit of comfort- since this was something of a long-term criminal residency- and they were styled in a way that made it appear more like metal cages, with bars crossing horizontally and vertically over one another. Which seemed rather fitting since most of the prisoners here tended to act rather animalistic. However, at the very end of the long corridor was where he found the one cell that was actually held in its own private room through a door, set to only open for himself at any given time; and only three other times a day for the attendants of the floor. Extra precaution for a... well, an extra _special_ criminal.

The door slid open after a voice password and eye scan, and he stepped in, hardly relaxing once the door closed shut noiselessly behind him. There was a decent enough space between the door and where solid white metal bars started, giving him ample room to pace, but still reminding the inhabitant of the cell that they were in fact, still technically considered a criminal.

She did little more than eye him from where she was laid out on a workout bench, pumping a pole with two 25 pound weights permanently secured on either end. Tim had refused to give her anything heavier in case she got any stupid ideas into her thick head. "And to what do I owe the displeasure of your company?" She asked, doing two more reps before placing the weighted bar onto it's holding rack.

Tim eyed her silently, his brow creasing as he considered how exactly to start... But since he didn't respond fast enough to her liking, she was already speaking for him, sitting up and cracking her neck before rolling her shoulders.

"Awh, lemme 'ave a guess then... mm... oh! It must just be that you miss me! Understandable, really." She stood, moving around the bench to lean her weight fully against the bars that crossed vertically and horizontally.

"You know what? That is exactly it, I really do miss you," he started, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall with a pleasant, friendly smile, which immediately brought a look of confusion to her face, "but don't worry, I think my aim is getting better." He made a finger gun with his right hand and cocked it back as if taking a shot, miming the word ' _pow_ ' as he did so.

She snorted. Or at least she tried to do just that, but a laugh eventually managed to escape her. "Lame- tha' is so lame, Lawrence. Really? I fought you 'ad some class, man." She chuckled a while longer before finally managing to get a hold of herself. "So what are you really 'ere for, then?"

"Well, two parts business, one part just as a... an acquaintance, I guess- I've recently come into an interesting amount of information, the most of which you'd probably like to know about."

"Uh huh. Out wif' it then. I ain't got all day. I mean I do, obviously, but that don't mean I want to spend it beatin' around the bush. least not yours- that one attendant though, on the other hand-"

Tim rolled his eyes as he cut her off. "Yeah, I get it, I get. Well, let's start with... oh! I know," he choreographed having a sudden, needlessly dramatic, epiphany. "He's alive!"

Her perfectly shaped dark brows knit together, clearly not understanding what he meant. "Um, he who? In case you 'aven't noticed, ain't really gotten out much in the last few years."

"Davis Pickle. Your brother."

Eliza leaned back, from the bars, "are you kidding me, right now?"

"Absolutely not. Just got off the comm with him, actually."

She stopped leaning against the bars altogether now, instead taking up pacing behind them, her hands wringing together as she opened and closed her mouth a few times, wordlessly. "You... you really ain't yankin' my leg, yeah? Pickle," she swallowed, "he really is out there? For sure, now?"

Tim nodded, actually kind of glad to see this news was hitting her this hard. If she'd taken it lightly, he probably would've done something less than nice. "Yes. Eliza, if there's one thing we both agree not to joke about, it's Pickle. We've been guessing for years, tossing theories every now and again to get by, but now- I'm serious. I don't know how he did it, but he's... he's alive." And then he had to ruin a good moment by adding, "even if you were a traitorous bitch, you do still deserve to at least know."

The corners of her mouth pulled down as she glared at him. "Y'know, I almost thought we were gonna 'ave a moment there. You're a real peach, Lawrence."

  
He responded by shrugging one shoulder and wearing a shit-eating grin. "I am a luxury few can afford." The relationship between them was rocky at best, so Tim always made sure to keep her at arm's distance. Or locked behind bars. Even though she seemed to have grown more docile over the years, he would always consider her a wild card, especially considering some of their history. "How, uh, how's the arm by the way? I notice you're using the weights again, which is a good thing, I assume."

She arched a brow at him, leaning against the bars once again. "S' alright, Nina says it healed fine, and it'd take a real professional to tell that it'd even been broken to begin wif'." Eliza shrugged as he looked over her left arm, as if searching for a mark on her smooth olive skin.

"Well, we could always get Veronica over here to take a look at it, put that to the test. She's gotta be the closest thing to a professional that we have, right?"

Eliza scrunched up her face, "I'd rather take Nina's word for it, yeah.That chick 'as got some serious problems. An' I always hated the way she'd look at me. Like a bug under a microscope or somefin. Best part of 'avin' my own room is bein' away from her."

  
Tim just found himself shrugging in response. Eliza wasn't wrong, the woman in question  definitely had some issues, but she also had her uses, so Tim was always stuck in a bit of a tight spot when it came down to deciding whether or not to inform the entire Council about her. For now, she was in the most secure hold Elpis had, so he figured they probably wouldn't mind. He knew at least one member didn't.

"So," Eliza shifted, moving away to walk around the neatly arranged cell, that honestly looked more like the meticulous one room apartment of a neat freak. She headed over to the wall furthest from him where a small selection of outfits were pinned using digi-tech so that the hangers would deconstruct when they weren't in use, and reconstruct only when she held the items that needed to be hung in front of the monitor. Again, an extra precaution in case she felt like being particularly stupid. "So," she repeated, taking a long sleeved, plain grey, button up off a quickly deconstructed hanger, "where is he then? My brother," she added, on the off chance there was any confusion as she slipped the shirt over one arm after the other, untucking her braided hair and letting it hang over her shoulder as she started to button the blouse. Rolling up the sleeves, she removed the sport top out from under it with some effort, and then crammed it into the small palm-sized shoot in the wall.

Tim considered the question as he rubbed a hand across his five o'clock shadow, at least that's what it had been three days ago. "I don't actually know his exact location. All I really know is that he's somewhere underground- literally. And living with kraggons, or some shit," he muttered the last part, kind of as an afterthought; surprised when Eliza had heard him.

"Livin' wif kraggons? And he's underground? Guess that's certainly an odd enough combination that I can't say you're makin' it up." She snorted, reaching for a pair of loose fitting track pants next, slipping out of her work shorts without any sense modesty. Which Tim never could decide whether or not it was because she lacked any care- or for shock value. While she had spent the two and half years of her confinement bouncing from one workout regimen to another, it didn't hide any of her acquired scars. Specifically the one on the meatiest part of left thigh which looked like she had been attacked by a midget with an overly large corkscrew. "But he's actually underground, yeah?"

Tim managed to pull his gaze up in time to meet her eye as he tried to recall what she'd just said to him. "Oh, yeah, mhmm. I tried to get something a little less... general, for an answer, but I think the fact that he's apparently safe is good enough for now."

"Something we can agree on. I mean, he could've been soaking up sun down on Pandora, and I wouldn't've cared. Jus' glad he's not... y'know." Another thought seemed to cross her mind as her expression become very much similar to one Tim could recall seeing on Pickle's face not more than an hour ago. "Did... did he ask about me at all?"

Tim felt himself clamping his jaw tight, completely on reflex, as it was something he tended to do when asked a question he didn't particularly want to answer, but at the same time, if there was one thing he had always avoided in the past- it was lying to Eliza. Mostly because she could call out his bullshitting from a mile away so it generally just made things easier to come clean on the first go around. "Yes."

"Okay, and?"

Tim gave a half-hearted attempt at a shrug. "And nothing. I mean, he did ask about you, but..."

Eliza nodded, already seeming to connect the dots before Tim could find the right words. "S' alright. I'd rather 'ave him fink me brown bread dead than know I'm 'ere like this. He'd only feel sorry for me, an' probably blame 'imself or somefin dumb like that."

He blinked in honest surprise. On one hand because she immediately assumed that Tim had told Pickle that she was dead, and on the other because she wasn't pitching a fit over it. "Well, I didn't exactly tell him you were dead or anything. I just... said that there was no documentation of your whereabouts since... an incident."

She seated herself on the edge of her plainly dressed bed, facing him with expression that quickly become a look of amusement. "You're a real cheeky bastard, y'know that?" She was _actually_ smiling.

"You're- you're not angry? Or upset at all?"

"Why should I be? It ain't like you're lyin', and besides you ain't talked to him, in what- four years now? I fink the last thing he wants to hear about is what's 'appened to his dear older sister during that time."

It was a far point. After the report was leaked, and more stories came to light, half of Elpis knew the details about how Pickle had gotten nabbed by Hyperion. Which was the second reason for why Eliza had found herself in the sublevels of Concordia. If Elpis had hated Hyperion, they loathed her. "Well, he didn't even know about the riots, so I doubt he knows that half of Elpis knows that you sold him out." She opened her mouth immediately, to argue his statement, _"-_ yeah, I know, _that's not wot 'appened,"_ he did a poor imitation of her accent, "I know that- but Elpis doesn't, and he doesn't."

She pouted, before quickly letting it go, relaxing back with her arms propped under her so she was barely still sitting up. "Okay, tension is 'igh, so let's just settle back down then. I'm a bad person, you're the 'ero of Elpis, and Pickle's a martyr; but has he actually been underground, literally, for three years?”

Tim shook his head. "No. He only recently ended up there. He was on the Drakensberg for the last three years, actually. Surprisingly. I don't know how he managed it, and I don't think he'll tell me, either. So in the meantime, I've got people sweeping the systems now so I can figure it out, but no, this underground vay-kay happened somewhat recently. I can actually pinpoint the exact day he left the Drakensberg, because it would've perfectly coincided with when Dahl showed up back on Elpis, which brings me to the business part of my visit."

"Well, hey, wait a sec, maybe I ain't done talkin' about Pickle-"

"- yeah I know, he's your brother, you're riddled with guilt, you want me to tell you every little detail I have, etcetera, but how about a deal? I'll ask a question, and then you can ask a question."

She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him for a moment. "I mean... I fink I got a lot more questions then you could possibly 'ave for me. But alright. I'll go first, though."

Timothy bit the tip of his tongue, but nodded. "Alright, fine, ask your question, I'll answer, and then you can answer mine."

"Cool. How tall ‘as he gotten?"

Tim’s face showed a multitude of expressions before he just settled with squinting at her. "Why- why would I know the answer to that? Probably? I mean- what the hell, Eliza?"

"What, I just wanna know if I'm still taller. See I made a beat wif him when he was six, that since I've got three years on him, I'd be 'ave three inches on 'im when we got older."

"I- I don't even know what to say to that. I don't- I don't have an answer either, but next time I talk to him, if I can remember, I'll ask him. Just for you, I'll ask him if he knows how tall he is. Assuming there are tape measures inside the moon. My question now?"

"Mm, your answer has satisfied me, so yes."

Ignoring her inflections, he asked, "your mother, Elu Pickle, did you know she was a siren?"

* * *

Days passed, and Timothy managed to squeeze time in every couple of days or so to talk to Pickle. Or at least, when the youth seemed to be up for a conversation. Most of the time, they ended up exchanging niceties, and then Pickle would go off, ending the transmission with a half-hearted, ‘ _yeah sorry, I got somethin' I need to check on- call you back?’_ But he never did. Which, was annoying to say the least, but Tim could at least pretend to have the patience of a saint.

  
Tonight didn't seem to be an exception to the growing pattern. " _Well, uh, it's good to hear that Elpis seems to be really getting itself back on track and all, but uh, I fink I'll be-"_

  
"Pickle, could you... I dunno, stop doing that?"

Pickle blinked at him, his picture going a little fuzzy before stabilizing. " _Doing what?"_

  
"That- that thing where you just say a few words and then just, leave. If- if talking to me is too much for you, you know you don't have to then, right?" Well, not actually. But, Tim assumed that this was the best way to get to the root of whatever the kid's problem was.  
  
_"What? No. No, no. I don't- I mean..."_ Pickle paused, biting the inside of his cheek for a second. _"I dunno, I guess I just_ _spend all my time between ECHOs thinkin' up all the things i wanna say, but then when I've actually got you right in front of me like this, my mind just goes blank, you know, and then I don't know what to say, and then I feel awkward,_ _cause you're always goin' on about all this work you gotta do and then since it'll take me forever to finally get my wooden bed head back on my shoulders, I don't want you to end up wasting_ _your time, y'know, so I just figure, maybe one of these day, I'll actually remember wha'it is I wanna say, and even if i don't, y'know, it's still good to hear someone's voice right? I mean, someone else's, yeah, so, I figure-"_  
  
"Okay. Yeah, okay, okay. You can stop now. Hey, starshine," Even after Tim had attempted to cut him off, the kid had for the most part continued to spiral.  
  
" _Oh... heh, sorry, about that, Vault Hunter."_  
  
Tim nodded, to make sure the kid knew he heard him, but at the same time he felt like letting some silence seep into the conversation couldn't hurt either as he surveyed the various files and piles of loose papers scattered between and underneath tablets that cluttered his desk.  
  
He was content to take a look at the pile that would at most, only requiring loose reading. followed by a signature while he let Pickle think about one of his questions. It took a few minutes before Tim had to break the silence himself, looking back over to where he had his ECHO propped up against a small stack of books. "Any of the things you wanted to say cross your mind yet, kid?"  
  
" _Uh... I mean, it's good to see you."_  
  
Tim let a smile curl his lips, but tried not to chuckle. "Alright, It's good to see you, too. Anything else coming up?"  
  
" _Um, well..."_  
  
"Come on, whatever comes to mind, just say it, maybe it'll help." Tim suggested, looking back over the paper in front of him, making a quick signature, then flipped to the next one. When the kid still didn't respond right away, Tim sighed theatrically, "now just a second ago you were babbling like a Lunatic with their favourite gun in hand, and now-"  
  
" _Have you found anything on Eliza yet?"_  
  
All humour died from Tim's face as he unintentionally gave the ECHO a stoic, unreadable look. It was hard to explain, why it irked him so much that Pickle asked about Eliza, maybe it was his Hyperion shining through, or some shit, but he couldn't wrap his head around Pickle's fixation. "Still can't say I understand why you keep asking about her."  
  
There was a pause on Pickle's end, before he replied in a quiet voice. " _She's all I got left, y'know. I guess... I just wanna know that she's alive. Or that at the very least, it was quick. I- I'm sorry."_  
  
Tim had to physically restrain himself from wincing, feeling that less than familiar swirl of guilt pinch at him. Or rather, punch him squarely in the sternum "Hey, you got nothing to apologize for, kid. But, don't go thinking she's the only one left- you still got me, alright? And- I promise, if anything comes up on her, you'll be the first I tell, okay? So, you don't need to keep asking- the moment I even get wind that there might be something on her, I'll tell you, okay?"  
  
Pickle's face seemed to brighten a bit at the sound of Tim's declaration. " _Alright, Vault Hunter. Sounds like a deal I'm prepared to make."_ He practically chirped. Tim was fine with assuming this was something the kraggon-boy had picked up from his new friends.  
  
"Okay, good. There's one big question out of the way. Now how about I ask you something, sound good?"  
  
Pickle frowned briefly in contemplation, " _well... I suppose it is only fair, yeah... Alright, go ahead, Ask your question."_  
  
_Well, it's now or never, I guess_. "Okay, here goes- how tall are you?"  
  
He was responded by the sound of silence and Pickle tilting his head and looking at him like he'd just grown a third head. " _What_?"  
  
"You're, uh, height- you got a number on it?"  
  
" _Uhm... five-four, I fink?"_  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Eliza was like five-seven, putting exactly three inches between them. "That's bullshit. I mean- hey, you're still young, so you probably have another few inches to grow into, right? Right?"  
  
" _Uh, Tim... are you... are you a’right?"_  
  
Tim shrugged, putting on a friendly smile. "I'm great- you on the other hand are _short_ , how does that work?"  
  
Pickle arched a brow, but last second seemed to just settle with going with the flow. " _Well, genetics, I guess? My mum was only five-six._ _My dad was five-nine though. But I dunno, I've always sort of, um... Well, you know, Eliza always took after dad more than I did. But like you say, I've probably still got some more growin' to do."_  
  
Tim tried his best to keep his face clear of a frown, instead taking up a very intense inner frown. Why'd he correct his sentence like that? He was obviously about to say he took after his mother, but he corrected himself. It was such a small detail, and Tim would've brushed it off, but with current events as they were... It stuck out like the reflective wrapper of a candy bar on the sidewalk. Glaringly obvious. "So basically, you take after your mother?"  
  
There it was. That unfamiliar sharpness in his gaze. The subtle clench in his jaw, the inward curve of his eyebrows. All of it was there in a flash, then gone. " _Yeah, I guess you could say that."_  
  
"That's pretty cool. I always took after my dad- or, I used too. I know that much. I mean, I don't really remember entirely what I used to look like, but I remembered the freckles, papi had those for sure." He was trying to make it seem like he was just trying to connect with his statement, but more importantly get the kid to relax again.  
  
It seemed to work, as Pickle noticeably reclined back against what looked like rock. " _Do you remember what planet you're from, Tim?"_  
  
Tim sat back in his own chair, setting his pen down as he considered the questions. "Yeah."  
  
Pickle shifted, his comm shaking as he seemed to change how he was holding it, by not holding it at and instead seemed to wedge it between his knees and leaned back again, sweeping his mess of hair over to one shoulder, beginning to braid strands together as he spoke. " _Okay, so which one is it, then?"_  
  
"Eden-4." He shrugged, leaning forward and taking up his pen again.  
  
" _Oh_." Which sounded saddened for some reason.  
  
"What?"  
  
" _Nothing, was just kind of hopin' you'd say like... Dionysus, or... you know."_  
  
"Dionysus? The planet of poets and wordspinners? Do I even look like someone from there?" Tim chuckled a bit, raising a brow.  
  
" _Well, no. Not entirely, you do have some habits that a bit stereotypical though, you know… and I dunno, I fink I’d like to go there someday, so figured I might be able to get an opinion to see if it's worth it, or something..."_  
  
"Wait, really? I mean, I'm sure fraudulent behaviour could be an art form, but I never really took you for a poet, or a scholar-type."  
  
" _Well... I mean, I do have a Bachelor's in Linguistics."_  
  
Tim found himself sitting back in his chair yet again, this time just staring blankly at his comm. "You're shittin' me."  
  
" _No. I was homeschooled, which meant I was learning at my own pace and all that. So I learned pretty quick that all the tests were_ _standardized and the easiest way to cheat that system was to just memorize what each test needed before I took it, then forget all the uninteresting stuff, and start memorizing for the next one. By the time I was seven, I was_ _technically finished 'ighschool, so I picked up a course in linguistics since I always fancied that sort of thing. And the professors loved prodigies- no not in a funny sense- it was Persephone for goodness sake, the younger a prodigee, the more bragging rights, ya see?"_  
  
Tim's eyes widened now at the last bit- not the prodigy part, the Persephone part. "You- _you're_ from Persephone?" Being from one of the middle planetary systems, he had some decent knowledge when it came to what classed as an inner planet- and Persephone was definitely among that list. While it wasn't the largest hunk of rock, it was at least twice the size of Elpis, and was considered a hub of luxuries. Of course like all the inner planets, its main inhabitants had been aristocracy, that spent most of their time buying stocks from various corporations such as Hyperion, reaping the benefits from when said corps decimated border planets- and all while buying into the local tabloids that condemned those same actions. Of course where Persephone had been different from most of its posh-brethren was due to its criminal underworld splitting its economy in a perfect 50/50. Which actually... explained a lot about Pickle.  
  
_"I mean, I kind of assumed that was obvious. I mean, the accent is classic underfolk_ _Persephenian. Heck, Aurelia caught me the first time I opened my mouth to 'er. But I guess you probably didn't know she's from Persephone, too. Upperfolk, but still. She basically had_ _Providence rebuilt with classic Persephonian-style architecture. Speakin' of- 'ow is Providence? Aurelia ever come back to instill her wrath on 'em?"_  
  
Tim had actually known where Aurelia had been from- but he was admittedly pretty dim when it came to accents and planetary origins. "Uh, I mean, the city’s definitely not as pro-Hyperion as it used to be. And Concordia did a nice old fashioned revolt against the stuck up pricks there. But, uh, Aurelia is... yeah, she's as gone off the radar as you've been. 'Cept she left that note saying ' _Gone, Hyperion can suck a thousand varkid eggs and have them hatch within their bowels and expel from their every orifice. Cheers to those I like though, and sorry to leave you lovelies behind. Signed, Lady Hammerlock'_." He shook his head slightly as he considered how gruesome a goodbye-note that was. "And yes, that is in fact burned into my mind forever. Could recite it from memory at the firing of a gun."  
  
" _Huh. What's a varkid?"_  
  
"No idea. Don't really wanna know either." Tim gave a tight lipped smile, his eyes begging for Pickle to drop the subject. Tim had the smallest inkling that it was probably something similar to a tork, and he so hated those things.  
  
" _Mm, fair. Probably some type of bug. Like a tork maybe?"_ Even though Tim's smile  
dropped completely to be replaced by a genuinely pleading look, Pickle continued. " _Sure wouldn't want somefin' like that hatchin' inside me, crawlin' its way up through my intestines, or down. Oh- oh, what if they got like, turned around? They were just goin' back and forth, back and forth, skitterin' around inside-"_  
  
" _Can you_ ** _not_** ," Tim whined, hands folded together and pressed against his lips. "Please."  
  
Pickle blinked at him, eyes wide, a picture of perfect innocence. " _Sorry, was I making you_  
_uncomfortable? Awfully sorry, really. Definitely didn't mean too."_ The little fraud even sniffled a bit, brows coming together as he brought a hand to his lips, as if to hide the setting tremor in his bottom lip.  
  
Now that was the little shit Tim remembered. "Uh huh. Sure, kid. But let's say we ignore the bug talk and go back to that part about your degree, 'cause I think you just answered a long standing question I've had..." Tim started rummaging through drawers in his desk, looking for a simple brown pamphlet.  
  
" _Oh yeah, what's that_?" Pickle sounded confused.  
  
"It is... ah! Here it is!" Tim yanked the paper out of the very back of his bottom drawer, holding it up in front of his comm's screen so Pickle could read what was written on it.  
  
It read: _PicKle's Linguistic school-liKe progame for learning._  
  
It was something he'd picked up years ago, but he'd never exactly gotten around to asking Pickle about it before. And now seemed as good a time as any.  
  
"Where in crooked shell, hell did you get that?!"


	12. Feel the Static

" _I cannot make you understand._ _  
_ _I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me._ _  
_ _I cannot even explain it to myself_ ."

\- Franz Kafka -

  
**Days had t** urned to weeks, and Pickle still hadn't completely fixed his 'habit' of popping out on Timothy whenever they'd gotten a hold of each other over the ECHOcomm. Pickle had learned to rehearse some solid questions before answering, or calling, that way it never seemed too abrupt when he ended the transmission. Although it did make him feel bad that Tim seemed to think it was because Pickle didn't actually want to talk to him, because that wasn't true at all.  
  
He just... he didn't like being in the caves.  
  
Ever since the rainfall, or even before that- Pickle had noticed a discernible difference in atmosphere. Something had shifted, each night, the lines of eridium seemed to glow brighter than the jellies, and those damnable whispers seemed to echo along the inside of the caves, even along the tunnels around the outside of the Cavern. It was maddening. And Pickle couldn't help but find himself camping out more often than not back in the Kraggon's Grove. And on occasions, he found Aris as his companion, which was a great comfort since the young kraggon was now nearly at Pickle's height when they went back on their hind legs, and at least triple his size. Still a real sap, though.  
  
So in truth, the reason Pickle was always cutting things short with Tim was to get out and away from the heavy rocks, pulsing with eridium, so he could breathe again. Of course, during this night cycle, he managed to find himself in a considerably deep sleep...

 

"Why am I here?"  
  
Pickle shrugged, eyes loosely closed as he reclined back with his arms crossed behind his head. "Dunno. Why do you fink you're here?"  
  
He opened one eye just enough to catch a glimpse of Tim as the man sat back in contemplation, propped up by his arms as his legs hung lazily over the edge. That honestly ruined it- made it harder to believe. Pickle never could have convinced Timothy to meet him on the rooftops of Concordia- and especially not get the man to sit on the edge of the highest roof like this.  
  
"Is it nice?"  
  
Pickle sighed, resting his head back again, but look up now at the dark abyss. He could remember the smallest details of Concordia- right down to the soft glow of lights; the smooth architecture of the buildings, the barely audible buzz of machinery that kept power pumping around the city- but his mind, for some reason, refused to dream up a decent view of the stars.  
  
"It's dark, Tim. Can't see a fing."  
  
"So dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your own face?"  
  
Pickle frowned, before his nose scrunched up as he snickered. Pushing himself up, he leaned forward toward Tim, holding a hand over his right eye as he recited. "I see nothing- until I hold like this, then I see all but none see me."  
  
It was an old call-signal for those that had wanted to try their luck venturing into the tunnels beneath Concordia, and even the more testy ones beneath Providence. Back in the day, there were only two ways of getting around them- risk going at it yourself, or get a guide. See the problem with going at it alone was that you couldn't use light- 99 times out of a full 100, you wouldn't see the moon's surface again either because a smarter scavenger took you out or some other horror that lurked in the deepest depths of the tunnels thought the light- and the person holding it- would make a tasty entree.  
  
Back in the day though, Pickle hadn't so much been a guide as the master map-maker since none of the other tunnel-dwellers ever thought to do that. In doing so he was able to decide what routes would be commonly known- and which he could keep to himself, which later became assets to the resistance and then lead to some confusion as to whether the One-Eyed Weasel was the resistance leader or just another supporter- to which most believed the latter. Which was fine, Elpis needed to know that both of those were him about as much as they needed to know that he was also the third richest person on the moon at the time.  
  
He didn't work for free, of course.  
  
Pickle had to stop the train there though, and remind himself not to get to caught up in the past or what he currently had would warp until he couldn't get it back. He sighed, sitting back and drawing his knees up to his chest.  
  
"Why are you here, Tim? I mean... you don't even like heights."  
  
"Would you prefer to be on ground level?"  
  
Tim responded after a shallow exhale, a trail of smoke lingering like a heavy mist in front of the pair before it was swallowed by the dark, hallowed skies.  
  
"Not really. I'm already underground, ain't I? No sense dreamin' about it too."  
  
"Everyone needs to indulge in a little escapism once in awhile."  
  
Pickle couldn't tell if the man was judging him, or agreeing with him. "I'm sorry, why are you here again? I don't fink you've answered that bit yet."  
  
Tim exhaled again, the smoke shimmering as it lingered in the air before it faded, fizzing out with one last kaleidoscope burst of colour against the black backdrop.  
  
"You're lonely, Pickle. You want to talk to someone, a connection that's a little more solid than a computer screen. As for why me? Well, I imagine it's harder to let the suspension of disbelief carry you through when you're chatting with someone who's dead."  
  
Pickle tilted his head back, giving Tim with an acidic, tight-lipped smile. "Y'know, if you're supposed to be makin me feel better, you're doin a real bang-up job of it."  
  
Tim turned, taking a long drag before opening his mouth in a perfect o shape and blowing out smoke in the form of a large ring, the likes of which ticked Pickle's skin when it encircled his face, casting a glimmer around him that caught in his hair like spider web that shimmered with morning dew.  
  
Pickle tsked, running his hands through his air, the smoke falling like tiny specks of glitter before fading out of sight. "Tim can't really do that."  
  
"On the contrary, Tim can do as he pleases inside Pickle's head."  
  
"Oh good, then he can quit smoking."  
  
"Nope. 'Cause I don't want too, therefore, not happening."  
  
"Well that's a bit off, innit? It's my wooden bed, head, if I want you to stop then that's all it takes."  
  
"And like I've already implied, if I were anyone else, I'm sure you'd be right. But I'm me."  
  
"You- you're- excuse me, but where the- you really fink you're somefin special or- or somfin?"  
  
"I don't have to 'fink,' Pickle."  
  
He was standing now, scowling at the man. But no matter how many times he opened or closed his mouth he still couldn't create a sentence that properly detailed how much he detested that statement. "Even in me own damn mind I don't 'ave control." He grumbled, crossing his arms and facing the dark expanse to calm his growing anger.  
  
"Do you like being in control?"  
  
Pickle tensed his shoulders, burying his face into a red scarf he couldn't remember wearing before this point. "If you're asking what I fink you're asking... then all I've got to say is I like 'avin limitations. Reminds me I'm still human."  
  
"But do you miss it?"  
  
"You don't really want that answer."  
  
"Really? 'cause it sounds more like you're the one who's scared of that answer."  
  
It was the same shade of red as her hat. He knew he still had it somewhere... Packed in his knapsack maybe. Or perhaps he'd forgotten it back on the...  
  
"Sometimes. Not often, but... just enough to know... know that... there's always gonna be that ache, tha' need to 'ave..." he couldn't finish the sentence as he sniffed holding himself tighter as he felt a stirring in his chest. "Why- why do we even 'ave to talk about this? It's not like it matters."  
  
"Hey, I'm not the one that can't sleep at night anymore, Davis."  
  
His shoulders tensed as he clenched his jaw. "Don't- you- you don't call me that, you don't call me Davis, Tim. You..." Pickle could feel it like a physical weight pressing down on him now. "Tim...?"  
  
He turned, face coming in contact with the man's chest as they wrapped their arms around him, a show of comfort and support- if only he could remember what it felt like to be embraced by another person. His mind tried desperately to fill in the blanks, pulling details from what he did know. The fabric of Tim's shirt felt like Pickle's sleeping bag, just a touch scratchy against his face, but the body beneath the shirt was unusual tough for a human. All around, the best his head could do was make it seem like Pickle had thrown his sleeping bag over Aris and given the kraggon a tight squeeze instead of an actual person. Which really wasn't what he needed right now.  
  
Pickle needed that connection, the softness of another body, muscle that wasn't as hard as stone, and arms that emanated a warmth when wrapped around him. He knew when he finally woke up, when he left all this behind, the ache would fade- he would move on and get over it for a time. But for now, deep in his own subconscious, he could indulge in this one vice.  
  
"Why are we here, Pickle?"  
  
"Didn't we already cover this? Or do you need some sor' of admittance before you stop askin'?" He sniffed, fingers clenched against the fabric that he just couldn't remember the proper texture for.  
  
"No- I mean... Why are we _here_ ?"  
  
His brow creased as he pulled away, one hand still holding tight to Tim's sweater as he frowned at the change of scenery. "I- I don't know." They were no longer on a rooftop with starless abyss above them, but a caverned ceiling dotted with large deep red mushrooms that were glowing unusually bright given the darkness of the Forest around them. They stood in the heart of a meadow surrounded by six pillars of eridium infused stone that seemed to pulse to the beat of Pickle's heart as he felt a tightening his throat.  
  
"Do you know this place?"  
  
All he could do was shake his head as the weight his chest twisted into an all to familiar sensation that had him gasping for air. "No- no, I'm not doing this- this isn't- it's not me-" His jaw clenched as he tried to still keep a grip on Tim's sweater as the pain of it brought him to his knees in the meadow's slate coloured glass. "Make it stop- please, just get it out of me!"  
  
As abruptly as it started, the sensation was gone, and Pickle was left panting with one hand to his chest and the other buried on the grass, keeping him balanced.  
  
"You doin’ okay, starshine?"  
  
"What the crooked shell hell do you fink?" He exhaled a shaky breath, ready to get back to his feet when a cold shiver crawled up his back out of nowhere.  
  
_Shrrrrrk, clack. Shrrrrrrrk, clack._  
  
"No.. No, not this, please don't," he knew Tim had gone now, he knew the dream was changing and that he was losing all control of any of it.  
  
_"Da... visss"_ _  
_ _Shrrrrk, clack. Shrrrrk, clack._  
  
He noticed the smaller changes immediately, the sudden change aa the red light so far above began to brighten before fading, then brightening again like the emergency lights he dreaded seeing again. Then there were changes out of the corner of his eyes, threw the trees he noticed steel walls, rotating barriers, a large screen flickering to life.  
  
"Theta, your goal is to complete the maze, or defeat Beta-6 in combat. Those are your only objectives." Calmly delivered from a recording of the red headed scientist.  
  
"No, no, ignore it, _ignore it_ ." He put his hands to the sides of his head and squeezed as he closed his eyes. "Don't look, don't fuel it, I can get through this."  
  
But even through his mantra he could hear the woman again. "Beta-5, your only objective is to terminate Theta. Failure is not an option."  
  
_Shrrrrk, clack. Shrrrrk, clack._  
" _D...aavissss"_  
  
"Stop.. make it stop."  
  
But he couldn't. He couldn't stop any of it- he couldn't stop the shudder, the sudden snap of his head as he whirled around at the sound of flesh thudding against steel barrier; couldn't stop the spreading terror that had his heart racing in his chest.  
  
" _I'm sorry- I'm so sorry, I-"_  
  
He trembled in fear, his nerves shot from the chaos occurring all around him. Blue flickering on the screens, before flickering back to the red headed scientist instructing with a detached tone, and the shrieks from the labrat down the corridor as they advanced, dragging their left leg and right arm, which had become enlarged due to experimentation and grotesquely disjointed by large crystals of eridium that had torn through the greying skin and dotted up across the collar bone; a purple ooze dripping from beneath the face mask that did little to hide what the experimentations had done to her.  
  
" _Davissssss_ ."  
  
" _Please, I'm sorry- but you have to wake up!"_  
  
"Theta, your objective is to terminate Beta 6."  
  
" _You have to wake up- I can't reach you-"_  
  
"Beta 6, terminate Theta."  
  
_Shrrrrk, clack. Shrrrrrrk, clack._  
  
_Clack_ .  
  
_Clack_ .  
  
"Co **ngratu** _lations_ , you _hav_ **e co** **_mpl_ ** _et_ ed your ob **je** **_ct_ ** _ive_ ."  
  
_Clack_ .  
  
\--*--*--  
  
When his eyes finally opened, his ears were still ringing, his heart still pounding, and tears still running down his cheeks as he tried to remind himself where he was.

He was still in the Kraggon’s Grove- Aris somehow still sleeping soundly at his back. Although Pickle was beginning to believe that there wasn't a single thing that the kraggon couldn’t sleep through. Pickle still managed to take comfort in the fact that at least they were there, the steady rise and fall of their side against his back making for a perfect metronome for him to go by to calm his own erratic breathing.

Already, bits and pieces of his nightmare were  leaving his mind, like a mist was being drawn over the recollection as he noticed the subtle change in the lighting far above his head. It was rather unfortunate that he had gone through all the trouble of going to the Kraggon's Grove to avoid having night terrors, only to end up having one anyways. And of all the things that could have had him startled awake it had to be something like that…

It was somewhat of a subconscious reaction, the way his right hand moved to trace the mark beneath the sleeve of his suit on his left forearm. It was only a few moments of that before he was pulling back the sleeve, properly revealing the scarred over brand of the word “T H E T A”, which really had just been a cruel joke on the good doctor’s part. Not that he cared anymore. It never hurt any more, and he so rarely saw it that he spent more time not realizing it was there than agonizing over the fact that it was.

Pulling his sleeve back down over his arm, it was when that the rocked ceiling above his head began to shudder, small stones chipping free and falling to the forested floor so far down below. Pickle frowned, his ears pricking at the sound of distant rumbling, his first thought being that he was about to witness another rainfall.  
  
Then he noticed how still the trees had become. Noiseless. Like all the living things had just stopped, not a whisper of sound, not a buzz, or sound of footfall. And in the air- he could feel a strange sort of static that made the hairs on the back of his neck feel like they were standing on end. Complete silence enveloped the area, except for the creaking and rumbling of rock above their heads. Carefully, Pickle pushed himself up, tucking a finger under his discarded helmet, holding it tightly as he rose to his feet, eyes looking critically towards the dark ceiling, his brows knitting together as he noticed a definite brightening in the red and yellow mushrooms and fungi so far above. Of course, they reacted to temperature. The colder the surface, the brighter they became- so the fact that they were beginning to remind Pickle of lightbulbs that were about to blow out certainly didn't bode well. "Aris-"  
  
A loud, near deafening crack emanated throughout the Cavern, the entire places shaking so severely Pickle nearly found himself on his ass again. Then it happened again- and again- three, four- six times. Frenzied sounds of distress erupted as the inhabitants of the Forest clearly had no idea what was causing this havoc on their home. But Pickle had a very well educated guess- someone, or something, was in the process of bombing the surface above his home. And the sudden temperature drop had him under the impression that there had been some sort of ice reservoir above them the whole time that had now been upended, filtering down through cracks and eroded canals in the stone until it reached the Cavern ceiling.  
  
"Aris!" Pickle shouted above the noises of the Forest, thankful to find that the kraggon had already been roused from their sleep. "We've gotta get out 'ere!" Pickle beckoned, heading off towards the Kraggon's cave in haste with Aris at his side. Long, spear like stalactites had already begun coming loose from the Cavern's ceiling- and while Pickle was certain Aris' armour would protect them, as for himself, well, his suit could hide him well enough from heat sensors, but it certainly wouldn't be able to hide him from rocks falling from above. Before they managed to make it farther than a meter from the Grove, another bomb hit the surface, shaking loose numerous stalactites, and successfully knocking Pickle off his feet, where he rolled into the underbrush to avoid a falling spear of rock.  
  
Letting out a heavy breath, Pickle was less than pleased to find himself watch it hang in the air before him. _Oh, just wonderful- perfect- first dodgin' rocks, an' now I might just freeze to death._ Since his helmet wouldn't do much good in his hands anymore, he pulled it on, immediately activating his HUD to assess his area. Various creatures were on the move, some just avoiding the falling stones, and others doing what he and Aris had planned to do- heading to the caves along the walls. Speaking of Aris, the kraggon was nowhere to be seen, not that Pickle really had enough time to keep staring around before he was on the move again, heading in whatever direction seemed to hold the lesser probability of getting him skewered. Unfortunately it wasn't long until he realized he'd been dodging in circles, and found himself back in the Kraggon's Grove, winded and tired, the light above him still shining bright enough that it would have been blinding without his visor to cover his eyes.  
  
The ground still tremored beneath his feet- and if Pickle remembered anything about how bombings had gone down- there was still one more to come, and it would be big. And probably deal incendiary damage. Which couldn't hurt considering the cryogel in his suit was beginning to solidify in places from the onslaught of cold (fix?). _I've got to find somef'in to brace myself again- gah! I'm in a damn meadow, there ain't nof'in 'ere 'cept trees and they ain't gonna do much good!_ Pickle found himself growling at this realization, and settled with crouching among some of the fallen stalactites that created rubble around the Grove.  
  
"Come on, come on, 'fink damn you, five or ten counts?" He knew that given his location  
it really wouldn't matter. If it were a Scavs' design, they would have unleashed their biggest first- but given how the tremors had steadily risen in size, these bombings were following the Hyperion code of conduct. Let out teasers first, steadily building up in damage done until there was a five to ten count pause before letting out the last one that's only aim was to decimate whatever was left. One of those things Hyperion had perfected on Elpis before going to town with it on a place called Fyrestone. Well, to start, of course. Pickle was fairly certain they'd used the design on plenty of other places as well.  
  
His count reached nine, then continued past ten to eleven. He hoped more than anything that he'd reach fifteen and continue past it without any disturbance. But as the whispered count of fourteen left his lips, he looked up to witness the most bizarre thing.  
  
"Oh, so they are real."  
  
In a blur of bright colours, the Guardian appeared from the thick of the Forest, propelled  up toward the Cavern's ceiling by an unknown force, with a what appeared to be a staff outstretched above their... head? Pickle still had no idea whether or not human anatomy could correctly describe the creations of ancient aliens.  
  
" _Fifteen_ ."  
  
The last bomb dropped, and the tip of the Guardian's staff seemed to connect with the largest vein of eridium in the ceiling, a blast of violet energy exploding out creating a dome that protected the entire Forest from having the ceiling drop down on it, or at least that's what Pickle supposed the purpose of it was. It still bloody well gave everything good jostling.  
  
Pickle never let his eyes leave the Guardian as he pushed himself up, his visor going to work to give an enhanced image of the Guardian as they slowly lost altitude, returning to the Forest floor. And Pickle would be damned if he wasn't there to meet the - er, _them_ , face to face.  
  
He had some answers and he'd love a few questions. _No wait, damn- oh-_ since he hadn't been keeping the best of tracks on where he was heading, he soon found himself stumbling over rocks and rubble as he threw himself through tight-knit limbs of trees until he burst out into another meadow- one that perhaps wasn't as large as the Kraggon's Grove, but was certainly- or had been- more decorative. The Guardian had only just landed, in the center of the meadow, surrounded by six pillars of eridium infused rocks, that had clearly seen better times, as most of them had taken some form of damage from the bombings.  
  
Pickle sputtered for a moment, grasping for something to shout, to say, to grab the Guardian's attention, who's back appeared to be faced to him, packed tight with various styles of weapons, from what looked to be some sort of gun, to other types of staves and spears.  
  
"Hey!" It came out as a hoarse, barely audible growl. Which wasn't exactly the impression he wanted to make, but at this point, he would take what he could muster.  
  
He tried his best to keep his back straight, and his stance firm when the Guardian turned, a decorative mask covering where there might have been a face. Assuming these beings had those. Pickle waited for them to say something, do something, to acknowledge that he was even there. But they didn't. A moment passed before they simply turned, their awkwardly set limbs giving them a sort of sauntering look as they walked away from him.  
  
"Don't ignore me!" He scowled beneath his helmet, and found himself reaching for his pistol, only to find his holster missing. _Damnit, I left it in the cave!_ With an aggravated wince, he looked around, eventually moving forward to grab a fallen rock, and a few others just for good measure. "I said, don't ignore me!" He called out again, the Guardian still not having left the meadow before he pulled back and tossed a rock hitting them directly in the back of their head... thing... "I want answers, dammit!"  
That certainly gave them pause, colour flaring from parts of their armour as they turned, not fully, only enough to give the impression that they were glaring at him now.  
  
"What? Ain't got no whispers in you this time, eh? All tuckered out, can't even play your mind games?" _I'm gonna die. 'ere and now, I'm gonna taunt this damn thing and it's gonna kill me. I swear I 'ad self control once_ . "Well?" He tossed one rock up, and caught it again, as if that would some way threaten the being. Which, for all he knew it certainly might.  
  
His bluster was stolen the moment he noticed the shimmer of a shield going in place around the Guardian's body. _Ah yes, this is 'ow I die. Well, ce la vie, or... whatever._ He activated his HUD, trying to get any kind of scan on the Guardian as it faced him fully, but still made no move toward him.  
  
* _Subject: Unknown, species not recognized. | Strengths: Unknown | Weaknesses: Likely none. | Suggestions: do not engage, risk of imminent death, probably. |_ _  
_  
Well that certainly didn't do anything for his confidence. Thus meaning he had to do whatever he thought was right; so clearing his screen, he pulled back and tossed another rock.  
  
The pebble bounced of the Guardian's shield and disappeared into the thickets. Along with any hope Pickle had of living to see the next day cycle. The Guardian advanced, and Pickle tripped over his own damn feet as he tried to back away.  
  
" _Not here, not now_ ."  
  
A look of perplexity plastered itself on Pickle's face he stared up at the Guardian that now stood over him, the words coming from them, but at the same time coming from everywhere but them. It was damn strange. "What the crooked shell, hell does that mean?"  
  
" _When those that travel far reunite, you will find the ruins at midlight_ ."  
  
"That- that really don't answer my question. And you should know I really ain't a fan of rhymes. Or riddles. So if you could maybe repeat that, but wif'out those things I just mentioned-" the Guardian brought their staff down, the decorative tip that no doubt had eridium flowing through it, pointing directly at Pickle's throat. "Can you at least tell me what midlight means? Is it like- like in regards to the day cycle, or like, what the sun's got to say on the surface? Or was it a miss print and you meant midnight? And, I mean, even then, midnight down  'ere, or up there? Also, you say ruins-"  
  
" _Enough_ ."  
  
"No, no, hang on, you can't go dumping this on me, and then not expect me to start asking questions- and hey, if you just walk away you know I'll just follow yeah? I'm not an idiot even if you are faster than you look, I'm still damn good-"  
  
" _Then the choice no longer exists."_  
  
"What- hey!" The Guardian reached down, their sharp talon like fingers gripping at the front of his battlesuit and lifting him up from the ground with complete ease. Like he were a tiny little feather, or a small bug that was seconds away from being crushed in their firm grip. "What are you-"  
  
They placed their staff at their back among the other weapons transfixed there, and then proceeded to pull Pickle's helmet off with as much ease and care for it as they'd done when they had pulled him from the crash. " _I apologize, for what it is worth to you. The barrier will break before you wake. I suggest-"_ _  
_  
"Barrier? What barrier? And what do you mean before I wake? What are you doing?"  
  
" _You talk far too much_ ." Was the last thing that came from them- or from around them. Even at this close, the words came from everywhere and nowhere. It was jarring, unnerving, kind of neat, a touch disturbing, but he actually felt like he could get used to it. Pickle's helmet was discarded onto the ground, and the Guardian brought their hand back, one finger extended while the rest curled in towards their large palm. Massive hands and sharp, slender fingers, in his opinion, a weird design choice, but honestly the last thing he should have been focusing on. _"I won't hurt you."_  
  
"Really shouldn't say that, see I've got a bit of a history with that phrase and let me just say- they never mean it." Pickle had dropped his rocks when he'd been lifted a meter off the ground, leaving him completely defenseless. Not that the pebbles would have helped or hindered the ancient being. One thing was for sure, this was something else he could mark off his bucket list.  
  
\- _Had a somewhat pleasant conversation with a Guardian. Managed to avoid mentioning that one time I uh… Well, apologies to the departed._  
  
\- _Also, I did tell them off, at least once, and will be surviving this encounter. Actually wait..._  
  
\- _Survived an encounter with a Guardian. A conscious, completely in-a-position-to-have-killed-me-Guardian. Nifty._  
  
Alright, so three things that he could check off, and now the next thing on his list was learning how to do a Dionysian braid.  
  
" _Be that as it may, catalyst_ ," a familiar knotting sensation made itself known in his stomach region as the Guardian brought the tip of their pointy index finger to the centre of his forehead. _"I know my intentions, my responsibilities_ . _None of them requiring me to battle you.”_  
  
Pickle's mind clouded, and he found himself incapable of focusing on anything- not even on the Guardian before him as his vision swam, he attempted some sort of plea, or a question, but the words came out in spectacular mess of vaguely human sounds. It felt as though the Guardian had accessed his mind and was going about, pulling things around, moving through him as though searching for something, but before they could locate what was inside him, the world fell in on itself and he was thrown into the colourless depths of a sleep most unkind.  
  
\----------------------------------  
  
_"So what's so great about this... project, of yours, Doc?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _He knew that voice. It brought him back to present time. He looked out through thick, unwashed bangs. It took no effort to identify the speaker._ _  
_ _  
_ _"I don't think great exactly does it justice."_ _  
_ _  
_ _Red hair. Always red. Dark, like a rich merlot blend._ _  
_ _  
_ _But blue nails today. That was an interesting choice._ _  
_ _  
_ _"This project is what's going to fix that problem you've been having."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Oh yeah? And which problem is that, exactly?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"If I may speak bluntly, your Core problem."_ _  
_ _  
_ _Ooh._ _  
_ _  
_ _"You're lucky you're one of my top scientists here, princess. Otherwise, just saying that word would have granted your head becoming a bullet sponge."_ _  
_ _  
_ _Ooooh._ _  
_ _  
_ _"But let's say I'm letting it slide. What can this thing here do for me that my- the Core, can't?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Why, the one thing the Core can't do. Which I have some theories as to why that is; you won't like them, though."_ _  
_ _  
_ _The door to his containment cell opened, the scientist entering first, but his eyes remained on the second. The only time his gaze let up was when he blinked, and that was something he'd already managed to sync to the man's so it was likely they thought he wasn't blinking at all. Just staring._ _  
_ _  
_ _"They always like that?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Hm... No. Normally he only has a look like that for me. My, not trying to make me jealous, are you?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _A hand brushed through his hair. Out of his peripherals he had a perfect view of her, but his focus still hadn't shifted. The weight of his gaze was described as unnerving by the others, and the way they shifted under it only further proved it._ _  
_ _  
_ _"That thing over their mouth- some new kind of fashion?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"No. It's a muzzle, keeps the accompanying mouth guard in place which keeps him from biting his tongue off as an attempt at suicide."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Seriously? What the hell you been doing to him?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"No less than what we've done to the other subjects."_ _  
_ _  
_ _Her hand left his hair, moving to the straps that kept him positioned upright, back against the wall. The were loosened just enough that she could lean him forward. Easy access to the ports at the base of his neck, but still keeping his arms tightly secured against his body._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Hm, speaking of- where are those? These supposed others, 'cause all I see is one cell with someone in it and five empties. Hiding them?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Not exactly. We simply had to move the others to the opposite end of the facility. Everyone got tired of swapping for clean-up duty."_ _  
_ _  
_ _He couldn't help it. It was a golden opportunity. He allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up enough for it to show in his eyes. The masked man seemed especially unnerved by that._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Is- Are they smiling under that thing?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Probably. Four months and he's acquired quite the sense of humour."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Am I gonna wanna ask what kind of clean up duty?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"I'm inclined to tell you whether you ask or not. He kept killing them. At first we thought it was simply those that were close enough for him to get at through the bars. Since eridium became apart of their bodies, encasing a few major organs, when he extracted it from them, it, uh, created quite the mess- would you mind handing me that-"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Uh, sure- what do you mean, extracting?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Hm, I told you there was something special about this one. But yes, essentially by laying_ _  
_ _his hand on them he was, in simple terms, pulling the eridium from their bodies and into his own- damn near escaped us again once he got enough of it into him. And as I mentioned, some of them had a bit more in them than others, so once you take the eridium out of their bodily equation, it's mostly just skin, some brain matter, a foot or two left. Everything else just sort of got turned to people-puree."_ _  
_ _  
_ _The corners of his eyes crinkled as his smile only grew once the man took a full step back. He didn't even flinch when he felt her messing with his ports. Likely opening them just enough for a needle to prick through._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Can he- like, what happens to regular people?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Absolutely nothing. If you're eridium free, you are death free. Unless he isn't eridium_ _  
_ _free, then he could probably crush your windpipe and break your neck with ease. Turns into a buff little juice monkey when he gets on the stuff. Heightens everything. All his senses- his brain activity goes off the charts, and the eridium doesn't get flushed out of his system, either. Worth noting considering-"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Yeah, yeah, back to the part with the people puree- so obviously after that you did this to him, so I can assume that this wasn't enough."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"No, it wasn't. But at that time we also hadn't muzzled him yet. Our mistake, would've saved us from his constant singing of Cascada's_ ‘Everytime We Touch _’ if we'd done it sooner. But anyways, without touching them, he could still manipulate the eridium, and therefore the eridium's host, or hosts. Which is what lead to his third attempt at escape, when he managed to get one of our bigger subjects- oh, they would have been the best for harvesting crystals from, you know when the eridium begins to solidify and grow from the skin? Yes, all right, continuing on- anyways they only managed to bust their way out of their own cell before smashing their brains out trying to bust into his. The rest of them certainly hadn't made it that far before ending up more or less the same."_ _  
_ _  
_ _This time when the man met his gaze again, he mustered a wink. They didn't seem to appreciate that._ _  
_ _  
_ _"And you still expect me to give this thing access to the Angel Core? If he's done that to a_ _bunch of lab junkies, hell knows what he could do to- to- the Core."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Oh don't be ridiculous. I've heard enough stories that I'm more concerned about what your Core might do to him. But that aside, my sweet has become rather mild mannered since all that business with the other subjects, haven't you?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _He kept his eyes on target. Even when he felt her fingers pinch the sides of his jaw, pulling his face toward her. But his eyes remained locked, the smile long faded so he had nothing more than a dull stare. Even when he felt her brush the electrical Maliwan ring she kept on the index finger of her right hand against one neck port, and then another. His gaze didn't shift, even if he did squint, and his jaw tightened, grinding the plastic mouth guard between his teeth._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Hm. Normally that works. Perhaps he recognizes you."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"This is Elpis, I'd be surprised if he didn't."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"No, that's not what I meant. I've had the guards that brought him in around a few_ _  
_ _times, he barely graces them with a glance- but you. No, this is something personal. I don't suppose you recognize him?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Can't say I do. I haven't exactly spent much time outside of Concordia, here, and the Vault."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Hm, I suppose you wouldn't have met many children besides."_ _  
_ _  
_ _Casual. How could she say it so casually. Like she was talking about someone else. Like she wasn't talking about him, like she was talking about someone in another room._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Children?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Mm. That is what he would be considered. Of course here it unsettles the others to refer to any of our subjects as anything possibly endearing. Makes it harder to go home after a long day and look significant others in the eye, or put our own little ones down for bed; you know how it is."_ _  
_ _  
_ _He couldn't help it. His eyes widened, like giant saucers as he noticed the spark come into the masked man's eyes. But the man didn't even give him another look before answering._ _  
_ _  
_ _"No. So! Now that storytime is over, are we doing this demonstration that's supposed to blow my mind or what, princess?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Naturally. Be a dear and get the attendants, they're just waiting outside the door over there, and I'll have him put under. Makes for easier transfer."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Can't say I enjoy having you tell me what to do, but if it means I don't have to be ogled at by his creepy peepers, I can't complain. I'll wait in the lab."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Splendid."_ _  
_ _  
_ _The moment his back was turned, and he was out of the small cell, he felt her lips to his ear, her voice a whisper, but not lacking in any sort of power or clarity._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Don't think I didn't notice that. Pity, isn't it?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _His blood ran cold. His eyes darting away from the man's back to his left where he met her sparkling green eyes._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Oh, so now you look at me. Now I'm worthy of your attention... Oh but don't, I'll let  slide- in fact, I even have a deal to make with you."_

 _All he could do was knit his brows together, to show his suspicion as clearly as possible._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Oh, don't give me that look. I'm serious! You show him what you can do, play nice with the Core, and maybe I'll drop a bug in an attendant's ear just where I picked you up from. And maybe, maybe, I'll even give them a name to search. The lab is a small place, people like to chitchat, I'm sure word would spread fast. And maybe, for old times sake, you'll pull at his tiny heart strings._ _  
_ _  
_ _But I wouldn't get my hopes up. Once you meet the Core, you'll realize what a lost cause that is. But hey, as long as you're still hopeful, be a good boy, will you?"_


	13. Davis

_"_ **_The Greek word for return is_ ** **nostos** **_._ ** ****  
**Algos** **_means suffering._ **   
_So nostalgia is the suffering caused_   
by an unappeased yearning to return." 

\- Milan Kundera -  
  


  
" **Okay- oh, c** ome on, stop screaming for a second, would you? Seriously, it's just me. And I've got something that I managed to get pulled from the Drakensberg's system. Turns out that bug I installed still worked even after all this time and kept the security cameras rolling and well documented."   
  
Eliza glared at him from where she'd been sleeping, blankets and pillows thrown on the floor beside her bed like a mock nest. When his act of nudging his foot against her side finally managed to wake her, she had screeched like a banshee at the sight of him sitting cross legged on the bed above her. It probably didn't help that the tablet on his lap had enough brightness to it's screen that it casted less than pleasant shadows across his face. She only attempted to talk twice before just giving up and rolling herself back up in her nest of blankets. As if that would keep him from annoying her.   
  
"Don't be like that, El, I wouldn't be here if I didn't think it was something you might want to see. It's about Pickle." She replied, but through the barrier of three blankets it just came out as a muffled mess of vaguely human ranting. "Oh I'm sorry, what was that? Couldn't hear you through your stunningly effect shield. Seriously, Pangolin should take notes, I don't think _anything_ could break through it."   
  
"I said," she started, throwing back the covers and then promptly bring a pillow around to wallop him upside the head, "you are being a total _jack_ ."   
  
"Now that is hardly fair. Are you gonna watch this with me, or not?"   
  
"I'd like to sleep! Why the hell couldn't this have waited until morning?"   
  
"I, uh, I kind of have some... _stuff_ to do tomorrow that, uh... well, I'm kind of dreading it, so I figure... Sleep is for the weak?"   
  
Her face betrayed no humour. No real emotion at all, actually. Unless dead-inside was an  emotion now. In which case, that was what her countenance portrayed. "And what? You don't have any lackeys to annoy instead? No other sleepless warmongers? Deadly Elpian creatures, perhaps?"   
  
Tim's gaze fell to the floor as he seriously considered her words. "I mean... You kind of fall into the latter, don't you?"   
  
Instead of seething with rage, Eliza just half-heartedly shrugged a shoulder. "Fair 'nough." She slurred out before yawning, flopping down on the bed beside him, leaning down long enough to pull one of the blankets off the floor and up over her legs. "So what'cha got then, Larry?"   
  
"Don't- _never_ call me that again."   
  
Eliza merely rolled her eyes, shifted her position so her back was to the wall and she was facing him, blanket pulled tightly around her waist. "Fine, but you wanna get on wif this already?"   
  
"Fine," he repeated back to her, tapping the tablet on his lap. She jolted a bit when the wall panel near her head suddenly lit up. "Oops. Probably should have mentioned that that was where the false wall panel was. That's my bad, sorry..."   
  
She glared at him, begrudgingly shifting her position so she had to sit up alongside him. "Can you just get the point already," she grumbled.   
  
"Right, yeah, yup, okay," Tim cleared his throat, fingers going to work across the tablet, bringing up boxes of information on the wall's screen; from general information on the Drakensberg to secondary options, such as checking maintenance, or accessing any surveillance files. "Alright, so this is the Drake's system we're in right now. Back when the place was a hub for the, uh, resistance, only two people could control it- myself and Pickle. The latter only because I taught him a few tricks of the trade. I didn't exactly give him much more than a crash course, so it's pretty up in the air as to how he managed to rework half the system without tripping any of my alarms. Not to mention I had the bugs working in overdrive when I had everyone clear the place, in case Hyperion got the drop on the place after Pickle, uh... you know, got nabbed." Eliza didn't seem to have anything to add on, so he continued. "Anyways, a sweep of the system shows that all my bugs had been removed. But apparently whoever, or whatever, did that didn't notice the subroutine I put in that kept the cameras rolling and recording. Y'know, so I could possibly ID any Hyperion's I thought would show up- and then maybe I could trace to which location Pickle was getting his shit kicked in at."   
  
"Mm, too bad you were about a week too late when you finally managed to get that location."   
  
"Yeah, well, that tip you anonymously sent me at the time didn't really narrow anything down. They moved him around a lot. And unfortunately, his papers ended up falling into the hands of one of the people from the airship he blew sky high. Or... high _er_ . They kept the activity off-record and like I said, moved him around _a lot_ . Then, the report came in a month later, and..."   
  
"You stopped looking."   
  
"Again, I had a lot to deal with. A lot of people took it personally- a lot of people that had been from _Theta_ took it personally. Speaking of- did you know, now that they're rebuilding Theta, they're petitioning for a statue of him, right? And I still haven't actually told him that Elpis kind of considered his death a martyrdom. I mean, I implied it, sure, but I think he might be weirded out by it if he knew the full extent."   
  
"Well... I know it was one of the dumbest things he could've done, but I'm glad you let him do it. Hyperion deserved worse than that, obviously, but still."   
  
Tim guffawed at that. " _Let him?_ I told him _not_ too. Hyperion already had it out for him over the supply caravans he'd sacked, and there was the bomb he set off in the weapons supply storage-"   
  
"Wait, didn't you set that one off, though? After Jack-"   
  
" _Yes_ but Hyperion didn't know that- and Pickle technically masterminded that too- but anyways- he went after an airship! Not one- but two! That was just _asking_ for Helios to start twisting every arm they could get their hands on to find him. I fought with him for a week to get him to drop the idea. Even stuck a sticky note to his forehead that said ' _I do not condone this_ '. You know what he did?"   
  
"Did it anyways."   
  
"Well, yeah, but I mean about the sticky note?"   
  
"Oh. Uh, no idea. What'd he do?"   
  
"He ate it." Tim pinned her with a completely serious expression when she turned her head to frown at him.   
  
"You serious?"   
  
"Yup. Crumpled it up, and just- started munchin'. You know what he said after that?" She only shook her head, her expression now a mix of amusement and uncertainty. "He said, and I quote, ' _oh god, that tastes bloody awful_ .'," he mimicked Pickle's accent, quite terribly. "Then... well after I got him some water, you know- God, I remember it like it was just last week, honestly. He said, _fine_ . That _maybe I was right_ . And then went on about probably putting some extra guards around the Hyperion weapons' stock for the next couple days, in case some the people he had in on it decided to do it without him anyways. And I fucking did. And guess what happened the next day? Actually don't bother, 'cause I'm gonna just tell you.   
  
The airship was hit. Because it was during that same conversation that he had his gang take what they thought they’d need from the stockrooms; and when they hit the next day, the area was under-guarded because I had them rotated elsewhere." A level of wistfulness had creeped into his tone as he stared down at the tablet screen, not really taking in any of it in. "I don't know what it was, but when Hyperion went after Theta, it struck something hard in the kid."   
  
He was surprised when Eliza answered him, in the quietest voice Timothy had ever heard her use. "You... you know how Theta had that peak, yeah? It was, well, I fink it was the highest natural point on Elpis. Best view, too. Facing off toward the cliffside, it was all lava below and whatnot, but lookin' up? It was beautiful. No Helios, no Pandora. Felt like the stars could come down and swallow you 'ole if you stayed there long enough.   
  
It's... it's where Pickle put their ashes. Mum and Dad's." She paused, looking down at her hands. "I... I went there, after they bombed it. The peak- wasn' even a trace of it. Half o' where the town was, the lava 'ad poured into the crater. There weren't no'fin there anymore, Tim. Elpis ain't ever been a haven, she always 'ad her problems- but that? It was needless and ruthless destruction, and the only gain was to further one man's ego."   
  
Tim didn't really know what to say to that. He'd known that Pickle had spread his parent's ashes somewhere with a view, but he never actually knew where (well, until now) and the last part that Eliza added, well... she sure as hell wasn't wrong. Theta had been anti-Hyperion from the start. They had been a small enough community though, and they had always been peaceful. But as time spanned on, and other establishments started catching wind of some of Hyperion's practices on Elpis, namely their research facilities that had been leaked to be a cesspool for human-eridium experimentations and other such atrocities on less than willing subjects taken at leisure from scav groups and small communities alike, the more other places looked to Theta for the birth of revolt against it all. Thus giving Hyperion the only reason they wanted to falsify some information on Theta and bomb the hell out of it.   
  
He reached out, and after some hesitation, placed a hand comfortingly on Eliza's shoulder. "I had no idea that... that's where he put them. If I'd known... maybe-"   
  
"No… no, I know you, Lawrence. You still wouldn't have supported his decision. And you were right, really. He shouldn't 'ave gone after Hyperion like that- it was exactly what they were lookin' for. They probably just didn't expect that there would be some many people that would stand up against what they did to him- or- god, we don't even know what happened to him, do we? We have no idea how long they might’ve 'ad him." She muttered something else, and even though Tim couldn't hear it clearly, he could take a wild guess.   
  
"It's not your fault, Eliza. I mean, technically, it totally is, but... I like to think there's still a redemption arc in there somewhere for you. That one of these days, you'll get your chance to do something right by him. I mean, you'll _probably_ fuck it up. Like, at _least_ twice, but... yeah. You know?"   
  
She sighed, wiping her eyes against the blanket and looking at him, "you ain't too great at this, are you? The whole motivational-speaker role really ain't for you." Still, she seemed to muster an appreciative smile.   
  
"Yeah, well, something, something, stars, or whatever." He cleared his throat, tapping the screen in his lap to wake it back up. "How about we take a look at those security recordings now, huh? Unless you'd rather... I dunno, I could let you sleep instead if you're feeling considerable less up for having me as company..."   
  
Before he could even finish his sentence, she was shaking her head. "Nah, it's fine. I mean, maybe there's something on there that can tell us what 'appened to him?"   
  
"That's... that's actually what I was thinking too. Apparently the Courier was doing some surfing over some of the records, and not a lot of them retained sound, so he flagged the ones that they could find with audio, so there's that as a place to start."   
  
"Courier, eh? You mention them a lot, but never by name, why's that?"   
  
"Ehh, they don't really like their name, and they think being referred to as ' _the Courier_ ' sounds cool. And I mean, no harm in it, so whatever."   
  
"Oh. Neat, I guess. But continue with what you were goin' on about, then."   
  
"Thanks. Okay, so there are four or five feeds with audio, so I figure we'll start them all up at the same time, and speed them up where necessary and see if we can pinpoint when Pickle stumbled his way back to the Drakensberg."   
  
"Alright. Sounds good enough to me." She said, nodding along and turning her attention to the wall screen where Tim had brought up five feeds, the third of the pile seeming to be barely hanging in there from the start. "I don't fink that cam's gonna be holdin' out for long." She commented.   
  
And she wasn't wrong. Tim kept the feeds sped up, steadily fastforwarding through weeks of empty screen time, and about six months in the third camera feed had blanked out- but apparently still retained audio, judging by the occasional sound of electrical wires sparking coming from it's track, so Timothy decided to minimize it, but leave it running alongside the rest of them. Nearly a year in, and there was still nothing. And Tim was starting to wonder if maybe Pickle had lied, and maybe he hadn't been on the Drakensberg as long as he'd implied.   
  
"Wait- right there, stop, go back!" Eliza reached over to tap at his forearm while pointing  a finger toward the fourth camera slot.   
  
Tim had it paused, and pulled the feeds back a few days, but brought the fourth up so it took up most of the wall screen, the others continuing to play in minimized windows beside it. It was an angled view of just an average side passage, plain as ever. "Eliza, I don't see-"   
  
"Wait, wait for it, I know I saw something- you were just goin' too fast, it skipped right over- ah!" She pulled at his arm, her hand squeezing around his forearm.   
  
On screen, an odd scene started to play out...   
  
_Bulky helmet, a suit that was at least two sizes too big for the wearer, and styled in the red over black colours of old Hyperion. It would've seemed like a coincidence, but when the wearer turned just right, the camera over their left shoulder would catch a glimpse of the logo over their left breast. It was definitely a Hyperion suit._   
  
_"I don't... I don't fink I can keep going," there voice was shaky, hoarse, hardly more than whisper. "Can you 'ear me? Please, please don't leave me now."_   
  
_They were turning, he was turning. They were no stranger. To those that would eventually see the recording, they'd know him for who was, even before he pulled off his helmet to wrench out his guts on the floor of the ship. "I can't..." he barely could get more than a few words out before he was unloading the contents of his stomach again. And nothing that came out looked like it should have gone been in there in the first place._   
  
_He was shaking too. Even the grainy footage from the tape picked it up, and probably, hopefully, made it look worse than it did. Without the helmet, he was noticeably pale, eyes_ _sunken, cheeks hollowed, and hair that clearly hadn't been washed in quite some time. "Where are you?"_   
  
_There was the hollow sound of boots against the steel flooring of the ship. Coming from behind the kid that barely had time to turn, to flip over onto their rump and scuttle away from the newcomer, fear evident across their face as they couldn't recognize the stranger._   
  
_"Knew it was only a matter of time a'fore someone popped by here and took the turrets offline- never expected it to be you though. You look like shit, mate." The newcomer came into view of the recording camera with a raised pistol and probably a smirk on their face._   
  
_Confusion, pain, then rage were the emotions that flickered across his face, much the same as it would across the young woman that would later be watching the feed, managing to sync her own utterance of the name with as much venom as the boy did._ "Mason _."_   
  
_"Surprised you'd remember me. But hey, don't tell me you're workin' for Hyperion now too? Got the suit and all- but sure as hell look like shit. Or maybe you're an escapee and I've got myself another reward comin' for bringin’ you in._ Again _."_   
  
_That brought a new pain to the youth's face as he slowly started to rise to his feet, gripping his helmet in one hand. "Where... where's Eliza then? If you're lookin' to reenact past b- betrayal, won't you be needin' her?" The words sounded forced, specifically the b word, like it didn't feel right on his tongue._   
  
_"Oh, you ain't gotta be worryin' about her. No, last I heard, she found herself gettin' pretty cozy with Hyperion. Setup in Providence, I think. Though maybe I'm lyin' and offed her. Who knows, right?"_   
  
_"I- I don't believe that," he shook his head, but it seemed obvious that it was more of an uncontrolled twitch than on purpose._   
  
_"Oh, why's that? Cause we was all such good mates, yeah? Face it, Davis, I played you. I was workin' for Hyperion the whole damn time. S'pose to figure out who the real brains of the operation was, but after that little stunt of yours, they figured you were too much of a wild card. Thought you was dead already though- but you've always been good at that, y'know, not dyin', continuing to find ways to be a pain in everyone's ass."_   
  
_It would be at this point that the one's watching would make some sort of promise to see_ _this all-bark-no-bite bastard dead if they ever came across him._   
  
_"God, what the hell is wrong with you, mate? They had you hooked on some kind of juice? Guess I could do you the favour of sendin' you back to whatever hole you managed to crawl your way out of then." They seemed to find this funny as they retrieved their comm off the belt that hugged their waist._   
  
_The kid was still shaking, although it seemed to be with quite a touch more vigor than before, and even less controlled. Something about the other's comment seemed to shake them to the core. "No, no, no-" it was a sad mantra of repetition, holding his head between his hands-_ _or rather with his helmet pressed to one side of his head, and the flat of his empty hand to the other as he seemed to nearly scream, stumbling, sideways, a bit forward, and then to the other way, managing to cover a full comple of steps between himself and Mason before he fell to his knees, sobbing like there was something in the room that could only torture him._   
  
_"Fucking hell, they've fucked you good, haven't they? Practically be doin' you a favour if I just killed you here and dragged you back to ‘em dead, eh?" Mason moved closer of his own accord, gun pointed at the kid's head, now leaving nothing more than a handful of steps between them._   
  
_Perfectly choreographed, it was near flawless, the viciousness in his action as he sprang to his feet, bringing his helmet back and taking a swing directly for Mason's face, coming in contact with his jaw with a sickening crack- or maybe that was the gun going off in unison that had such a sickening effect. Mason fell back with enough force that nothing but their legs remained in view of the stationary camera. Davis, however, yelled out in pain as he fell the opposite way, a small spray of blood coming from his shoulder where a bullet bit through the fabric of his battlesuit and into his flesh._   
  
"Oh fucking- _fuck_ , Lawrence-" Eliza was pulling at Timothy's arm again, nails digging into his skin, but his eyes remained glued to the screen as he watched Pickle pull himself up off the floor, heading toward Mason's barely conscious body, just out of shot, but still within range to be picked up on the audio, they both heard it. The sound of Pickle's helmet coming down with a sicken smack. Then there was only the briefest of pauses before it continued, sounding more and more like what he was hitting was cracking beneath the strength of his blows. "Tim, turn it off- fucking _turn it off!"_   
  
"Wait- wait, Eliza-" his gut was clenching with nausea, but a quick pause and flurrying search through some of the feeds that hadn't had any audio, Tim managed to find the one he wanted, bring it up, just as Eliza refused to look by turning away and burying her face against his shoulder. Taking it back, he synced the feeds so the audio from the one played along side with the visual of the other.   
  
"Eliza- it's okay- really," he patted her shoulder again, " _look_ , it's fine."   
  
_Mason had in fact taken another blow from the helmet, but after that Davis had taken the rest of his rage out on the discarded ECHOcomm, smashing at it until it more closely resembled a pile of electronic rubble. When he finally seemed satisfied with that, he studied the smear of Mason's blood across his visor, likely having come from their super broken nose. Whatever he seemed to have been considering was abandoned as they reached down, pulling a Dahl pistol from Mason's less than firm grip._   
  
_"Won't be needin' that, will you? Not where you're goin'." He walked out of shot, and_   
_into the next the camera's sight, putting a good meter's distance between himself and Mason- as if making sure not to make the same mistake as the one Mason had, even if Mason happened to be very unconscious. But, before Davis could even lift the pistol and take aim down the barrel, a screen came to life on the wall opposite the camera, but just out of sight, so there was only a flicker of blue in the corner of the feed._   
  
_"Davis, what are you doing?"_   
  
_The boy seemed startled- or perhaps he'd been racked by another involuntary twitch that just looked like he'd jumped. "Where've you been?" There wasn't a hint of malice in his tone. A note of genuine concern was present, actually._   
  
_"Well, it's not as if those blast doors opened on their own accord. The system is severely bugged, and there are numerous safeguards I'm attempting to avoid alarming. It isn't exactly easy, but... I appreciate your concern."_   
  
_Davis nods, then raises the gun, only lowering it when whomever is speaking to him over the screen apparently makes a face. "Don't look at me like that, just- I don't 'ave a choice."_   
  
_"Of course, you have a choice. The other options just lacks appeal to you."_   
  
_"Okay, so let's say I let 'im go then, what'cha fink happens next?"_   
  
_"I- I know what happens next just as well as you do, I just... Saying you have no other choice sounds... sounds like..."_   
  
"Him _? Well, I'm sorry, I really am. Because I genuinely can't fink of it any ovver way, and I can't say that I don't want to kill this- this... I'm sorry, but they're bastard, alright? Pardon my language, but it's true."_   
  
_"I wasn't going to argue with you."_   
  
_"You just don't want me to sound so gung'o about it?"_   
  
_There was a pause. A near palpable hesitation. "Yes."_   
  
_"Fair, I guess." He started to lower the gun, but another short of shiver came over him, and the gun went off in his hands, the sickening sound of a bullet tearing through flesh echoing down the corridor. "Oh."_   
  
_"I believe that was a headshot."_   
  
_"Yeah." Davis slowly managed to pull his gaze away from what he'd just done- albeit an accident by technicality._   
  
_"How... do you feel?"_   
  
_"Uh, well... with my 'ands mostly." He replied, turning and slowly back up until his back hit the wall, eyes downcast, the occasional tremor still present._   
  
_"Funny, but not really what I meant."_   
  
_"Yeah. Yeah, no, just, um... well, my wooden bed head is a bit in a toss, so I don't really feel much on an emotional level. But, uh, physically I'm feelin' kind of brown bread dead. Or near enough."_   
  
_"I see... Well, believe it or not, but I think you actually made more sense when you couldn't speak to me at all."_   
  
_"Hah, well, now who's bein' funny?"_   
  
Beside him, Tim could see Eliza's lips pulled into a tight line, her face hard as stone, and portraying little emotion. "Who was that?"   
  
"I believe that was Pickle. Judging by the hair, and the accent."   
  
"No- No, obviously I knew that- I mean, who was that he was talking to? Do you... do you fink it was coincidence that they showed up on a screen that was right in the blind spot between the two cameras?"   
  
Tim blinked at her, noticing now that her brow was creased in a familiar way. Eliza was thinking hard about something. "I... can't say I really thought about it, no. But, I think we can assume that this mystery person is the reason none of my alarms were tripped."   
  
"Yeah, but... I dunno."   
  
"No- no obviously you know something, otherwise you wouldn't be making that face." He couldn't help but literally point at her face.   
  
She arched a brow at his finger, then just sighed. "I'm tired, Lawrence. And- that right there was a rollercoaster I was not fucking tall enough to ride."


	14. General

_ "Saying what you believe others want to hear is, of course,  _ _  
_ _ a form of lying." _   


\- Karl Ove Knausgard -

  
  
**So spending m** ost of the night reviewing feeds from the Drakensberg proved to have been as dumb an idea as Timothy assumed it would have been. Especially when considering the fact that he woke up the next morning having little over three hours of sleep under his belt. Which would have been fine, if it were any other day. 

  
The Dahl soldier, Xu, had not been the only one to survive the Drakensberg; and Tim had been tracking the other survivor for about a week now. But the full details of why he cared eluded him as he downed his first coffee of the day. Which was thick enough that he could have left his spoon standing straight up in the center of the cup. So, gross as hell but also gave a good boost for those that either hated sleep, or hated themselves. Tim liked to pretend to be the former.   
  
"Courier, do you have an eta for this asshole that's been demanding we hand over their colleague or what?" He purposely came crackling over their comm with an air of stuck up arrogance because he already knew the answer.   
  
" _ Uh, yeah, they're right here actually. Demanding we bring her out to him _ ."   
  
"Well that's just rude." Tim had almost entirely scripted this. Practiced it while brushing his teeth this morning. Well, in his head at least, obviously. Although that put a funny image in his head that allowed him to give a nice genuine laugh. "Seriously, invite 'em in, Courier. We don't want trouble, we just wanted to have a nice, neighbourly chat, is all. No reason why that can't extend to this kid too, right?"   
  
" _ Yeah, um, sorry, sir, but they don't seem like they wanna do that at all. Kind of got their gun to me head _ -" the Courier was cut off abruptly as the comm seemed to be forcefully taken from their hand.    
  
_ "Listen, all I want is my partner, this can all happen nice and easy, I'll you your person back, and you give me my person back- it'll be that simple." _   
  
_ Amateur hour, much? _ "Oh, ho, ho. A Dahl with some balls of steel over here. Well, sorry, Corie, but I'm afraid this is the last day you'll be spending on door duty. I mean really, a gun to your head is all it takes to get you to falter? Tsk," he tapped at the digipad on his wristwatch, just so that it made an audible beeping sound. This lead to a part he and the Courier had perfected years ago- back when Tim pulling a gun on someone who wasn't doing their utmost was far more of a necessity.   
  
He didn't need a visual feed to know the moment his watch beeped over the comm, red muck would've burst from the Courier's chest like something had burst inside their chest. Like maybe their heart, to an untrained eye. In actuality though, it was just a small red sack that had been previously concealed under the Courier's outfit and stuffed full of a messy, gooey concoction made by none other than Nurse Nina. So in all honestly, it could have been someone's blood and inner bits- just not the Courier's.   
  
" _ Jesus Christ! _ "   
  
"Yup, no, just me actually, but you're flattery is noted. Sick 'em, kids." He was of course talking to an additional comm frequency of ex-Hyperion guards who were lying in wait outside of Concordia's lesser used entrance where the Dahl soldier had apparently hoped to have things go ‘ _ nice & easy _ ', but this wasn't exactly a frickin' shampoo commercial.    
  
He started to head back over to the small kitchenette (one of the first things Jack had allowed him to add to the office after it had officially become Tim's) to pour himself out another mug of stiff coffee while making a mental note; after he had a nice chat with this soldier, he would get Nina to give the kid a good head-check, in case they might've gotten some sort of internal damage during their stay on the lovely resort-like moon.   
  
"Take our new guest to the White Room, will you? And get Nina on stand by." He called over his shoulder, knowing full well the comm was still open.   
  
" _ Yessir _ ."   
  
Tim tapped another spot on his watch, closing off the comm, then leaned his back against the counter as he yawned. Today was gonna be a long damn day, and he had no intentions of dressing up in his old threads for it. He decided that a nice clean white button up with the sleeves rolled up over a pair of casual blue jeans would be more unnerving anyways. Probably set a mood that this soldier wasn't even worth enough to him for him to even bothering finding proper clothes. Luckily the mask would hide the dark circles though. That would just make the ensemble look messy. After another yawn, Tim downed his caffeine-sludge and gave himself a good, full- body shake. 

 

"Showtime."   
  


* * *

  
The White Room, was in fact, just like any other room. Except it's door happened to be white. Inside, it looked like any other kind of old time-y interrogation room you'd find on a film floating around on the ECHOnet. A plain stainless steel table sat in the middle of the room, two equally plain and stainless steel chairs on one side, with one opposite them. The floor was a rich, dark linoleum, and the walls were a dark off-grey, and obviously designed to be sound-proof. The only thing it lacked when compared to an old beat-cop styled movie was the large double sided glass window. Instead, the White Room had one thing instead, and one thing only, and that was the spotless white door. Which proved to be incredibly unnerving.   
  
"Kind of plain. Surprised I don't see any of that ghastly yellow." The currently unnamed soldier was sitting in the singular steel chair, looking more like a lost boy scout than a military man. He had chestnut brown hair in a longer style than Tim would have expected from a Dahl member, and eyes that were also a warm shade of brown. In fact the only thing that might have hinted that the boy had seen any combat was a faint scar not quite reaching as high as the corner of his lip, but cutting down across his chin.   
  
"Yeah, have you ever tried to get bloodstains out of shit that's yellow? It ain't fun."   
  
"Says the guy wearing white."   
  
Tim, instead of picking from one of the other two, had a cheek on the table, one booted foot on the ground, and the other hiked up on the side of the Dahl's chair, who was currently sitting very uncomfortable with his hands bound expertly behind him, the restraints threaded around the back of the chair, so even if the Dahl got an idea to make a break for it, he would have to take the heavy chair with.   
  
"Yeah well, my other outfit is saved for the people who are worth my time." Tim had his arms crossed casually over his chest, and his face and tone were currently at war over which could show the most amount of boredom.   
  
This Dahl seemed wittier than the other. Or at least he wasn't trying to swear his way out of Tim's presence. "Really? Then why am I here if I'm not worth your time?" Even cocked his head to the side.   
  
"Y'know, that's a good question- why are you here? Thought Dahl makes you guys loyal to the masses, not the few."   
  
The Dahl studied him, but he wasn't going to get anything that way. Especially since Tim was actually genuinely curious about that. "Sh-  _ Xu _ , would have done the same for me."   
  
_ Okay... sounds kind of fake, honestly, but okay... _ "Right, yup. Anything else to add? Any further, uh, comment to make? Like, I dunno, maybe come clean about the fact that the real reason you're here is to extract if you can, kill if you have too? Can't have the weak link blabbing all your secrets, right? Or is there more to it? I kind of assumed your comms were a little to vague to not have some hidden meaning in them."   
  
Timothy and crew had been tracking the soldier since they found them squatting in some abandoned scav dump. Intercepting his comm's and keeping tabs on him from there was simple enough. The Dahl seemed surprised to hear that though. "What?"   
  
"Yup, heard it all, princess. But since you wanna play dumb, why don't I make this easier for you-” Tim rose from his spot, pulling a small chip from the small breast pocket of his button up, placing it on the edge of the steel table as he began pacing the room. "These things only have a short range- that much I believe was true." The chip was actually just the memory card from one of the Courier's comms, but Tim was willing to bet that the Dahl didn't know the difference.    
  
"How did- what did you do to her?!"   
  
With a hand placed candidly to his chest, Tim gave him a look of pure innocence. "Me? I didn't do anything. My people on the other hand- well most of them are still a little sore about the Lost Legion, so, you know what they say. Revenge flies a yellow flag with a big H on it." Or something, the dude was probably a little to worked up about the implications of the chip to nit-pick.   
  
"You're all screwed now. You think you're gonna get away with this? Well guess what, you're damned right there were signals and codes hidden in the transmissions- but you can continue to laugh while you can, you asshole.”   
  
Tim eyed him. "Now something tells me things about to get really interesting if you don't-"   
  
"Sir!" The white door came swinging open, and on the other side was the Courier, who seemed to realize in a heartbeat, they probably shouldn't have done that. "Uh,  _ howdy _ , sorry to interrupt," the least they could do short notice was drop their true accent an adopt one that had Tim's mind traveling back to the time he'd caught Moxxi out of uniform, tinkering in overalls.  _ Good times... _   
  
"Wait, aren't y-"   
  
Tim clamped a hand on the side of the Dahl's face, bringing it back to face him, "eyes on me, princess." Then he straightened, keeping a hand placed directly on the top of the Dahl's head. "You, whatever the hell your name was, what do you want?"   
  
"Uh, it's...  _ Jean _ , sir, and well, we got some issues. Namely, Dahl. Not this one, here,    
obviously, But, uh... yeah we got sensors pickin' up a Dahl drop-ship headin' this way. Figured you might be wantin' to know that."   
  
"Uh huh, now didn't I say things were about to get interesting? Bet they must be here for you, and I bet they've got a few things to be saying to me."   
  
"No shit, jackass." The Dahl said.   
  
_ Somebody doesn't seem very happy _ . "Alright well,  _ Jeeen _ ," he made sure to pronounce it as if it tasted bad in his mouth, "looks like we're gonna wanna be setting up a conference of sorts. So let's go in asses to the wind, and see if we can catch a good breeze."    
  
"What... what does that even mean?" Asked the Courier.   
  
"Mean's we are flyin' by the seat of our pants."   
  
"Wow, all looks no brains, I see." The soldier mouthed off, shaking his head so Tim would lift his hand.   
  
"Yeah, and so far you're all bark no bite." Tim feigned some level of aggression as he gripped the soldier's chin, who in response clamped his teeth together as if biting the air in front of them. And Tim was thankful the mask didn't change in correspondence to the heat that tinted his cheeks below it.  _ Really? Really, is that... was that really necessary... _   
  


* * *

  
For the second time in less than 24 hours, Eliza was being startled awake by the sight Tim. Only this time he came bearing a bundle of fabric which he promptly tossed at her. "What the fuck Lawrence?"   
  
"Good morning, El! Up and at ‘em- if I have to be awake pissing around, so the hell do you- remember that Dahl soldier I was telling you about?"   
  
Eliza pushed herself up, sitting among her mess of blankets as she unraveled the mess of clothes Tim had thrown at him. "That Hong chick? Remember you bangin' on about her a bit, why does-" Eliza blinked at the uniform in her lap. A Dahl uniform. "Alright, I'm gonna repeat myself 'ere. What the  _ fuck _ , Lawrence?"   
  
Tim was already pacing back and forth, and it was then that Eliza noticed he was wearing his mask too. "You're the same size and general complexion as her- there are some noticeable differences in the face, but I figure since you'll be having your hair down, we'll just keep that covered up."   
  
"Okay... and, uh, why will I be needing to do this?"    
  
"I'm expecting a video chat to take place shortly with someone upstanding in the Dahl hierarchy, and if worst comes to worse, I'd rather not have to actually kill a Dahl soldier- but with you on the other hand..." he paused, looking at her as if suddenly second guessing his choice. "Well, we can at least make it look convincing, I think."   
  
Eliza looked over the ensemble in her lap, picking up a near-bursting bag of substance, "and I'll be putting this where?"   
  
"Leg. Right leg. I saw her walking, she favours that leg, and I figure this other soldier guy... I think it was something U, or Hart maybe, I don't really know, he wasn't really forthcoming about his name, I'll probably figure out how to get it from Xu, anyways, he'll probably know that, so me taking a shot at what would have been her good leg should have a nice little effect on him. Hey, I said if it comes to it. I'm kind of hoping we can settle this diplomatically."   
  
Eliza snorted, already having gotten up to pull the uniform over her night clothes, which had only consisted of a loose tank and bed shorts. "She's got a bit more thigh than I do, but I fink I might be taller." She commented, pulling all the pieces of the ensemble together. From behind, or with her face down on the floor, Tim figured she'd look no different from Xu.   
  
"Alright, fits good enough, let's go get Veronica." He was halfway to the door when he noticed Eliza wasn't following. "Uh, what's the hold up, kid?"   
  
"Why the crooked shell hell do we need her?" Eliza seemed reluctant to leave her space that had been her place of confinement for near enough two years now.   
  
"Well, unfortunately, Xu has a chip that can track lodged somewhere in her, and I'm gonna need that out if this is gonna work, unless you think she'd be willing play along?"   
  
Eliza screwed up her face, clearly looking to come up with some other ways of arguing against having to be anywhere near Veronica. "Fine, but if she puts so much as an 'and on me, I'll break her wrist."   
  
"I'd let you break more than that, but noted."   


* * *

  
Timothy found himself repurposing the White Room for what he needed Veronica Bruville for. Who was creepily exbruent when she was led into the room, her arms still bound by restraints behind her back. "Oh, darling, it's been far too long! Oh, and- Eliza! My sweet, goodness you've grown since I last saw you." Her words were harmless enough, but the way her green eyes sparkled, and her lips curled up just a bit more than what was certainly normal. But then, Veronica had suffered some minor injuries (which probably also knocked a few of her screws loose) when her research lab had imploded, leaving scars across the lower left side of her face, and a large gash across her right cheekbone, and who knew what other scars on the rest of her lean frame. So... minor, compared to what the scientist probably deserved.   
  
"Veronica, I have a job for you." Tim stood with his arms crossed on side of the table, while Eliza stood just over his left shoulder, putting himself between her and Veronica.   
  
"Mm, I was told as much," she waved him off with a dismissive tone, instead leaning as though to look around him at Eliza. "I really must say, love the uniform, sweet. The green suits you, mhm. So will you be participating in this little job as well then?"   
  
He knew Eliza was opening her mouth to say there was no way she was going to be    
anywhere near Veronica, but Tim cut her off. "Yes. In fact you'll both be in this room for the job I have for you."   
  
Eliza scowled at him out of his peripherals, but Veronica's face lit up. "Really? Oh, well then I accept, hands down, no more need to twist my rubber arm, Timothy." Even Tim shivered at how hungry a tone the woman used. For some reason, ever since Veronica had come to know Eliza she'd acquired an immediate fixation on her. He had no idea where it had come from, but it always brought to mind how Nakayama had pined over Jack.    
  
Except Veronica had seemed less interested, and more just... obsessed with knowing Eliza inside out. From her blood type, right down to her favourite childhood toy. Which was creepy as shit, but at least it had always given Tim leverage over the dangerous woman.   
  
"Yeah, we don't need to be twisting anyone's arms... but I will need to do something very... particular for me. See, I have a Dahl soldier that I'm not looking to injure severely, but unfortunately, she has a sort of device in her that I need found, and... extracted."   
  
"Yes, all Dahl soldiers have a tracking chip, it's imbedded into the side of their neck along where one of the major blood veins that connects the heart to the brain. A touchy place, getting it out won't be easy- um, could you?" Veronica turned, tossing her head so her red hair flicked to one side so she could look over her shoulder to her bound wrists.   
  
Tim felt a hand pull at the back of his shirt, and he knew it was Eliza's. But still, he nodded to the guard that stood in the corner, just beside the white door. Then he looked over at the Courier that always just seemed to be hanging around, even though they did technically have a job other than acting as Tim's personal assistant. "Courier, take a message down to Nina, tell her I want her up here and if she could bring up a cup of the good stuff, I think I'm gonna need a hefty boost. And then head over to Holding, and have them bring Xu up here."   
  
The Courier nodded, and disappeared out the door, and it came to full close before the guard finally undid Veronica's restraints.   
  
"Much, obliged." Veronica hummed, rubbing her wrists for a few moments before running her hands through her thick, dark red hair, though it had already started to go grey around the temples, and a few streaks of it starting at her roots. "You wouldn't happen to have an elastic would you?" She leaned again, looking around Timothy to peer at Eliza, who only shook her head. The guard that was still standing behind Veronica silently supplied one instead. "Pity, I was so hoping you'd have one for me instead. You know I'd give it back." She actually pouted, but accepted the elastic from the guard.   
  
"I'd only burn it."   
  
"Tch. Such a ferocity. Really, what have I done to you to deserve it? Nothing you know of, for sure."   
  
"What's that supposed to mean, now?"   
  
"Oh, my sweet, if you only knew-"   
  
"Enough. Quit your games, Veronica." Tim cut her off. He didn't know what she was trying to get at; didn't even care. The woman was a finicky little pissant, and if she didn't have the experience and uses that she did, Timothy would have turned her over to the Council in a heartbeat and been there personally to see when they came to the conclusion that only death would suffice as punishment for her heinous acts. "You're up here to do a job, and that's it. I'm not putting Eliza through this for your benefit, or for your amusement. You are not to touch her, you are not to speak to her, even if you're on fucking fire and she's the only one in the room with water. Got it?"   
  
Veronica's eyes flickered back to him, as if she was considering whether or not it was still worth it to be cooperative. Her gaze shifted back to Eliza only once, before she locked her gaze  on Timothy, and gave a single, curt nod.

  
"Good." Then he turned to Eliza, making sure to talk a bit lower, leaning close enough that he didn't necessarily impede too much into her personal space, but he was close enough for her to hear him. "I know you don't want to stay in here with her, but you're gonna need to know what kind of damage Xu will get out of this, and I'll leave Nina up here to make sure she doesn't try anything off-script, alright? El? As soon as she gets that chip out, I'll have someone drag you out of here faster than she can blink, and then the only asshole you'll have to deal with will be me, okay?"

  
After a moment, Eliza nodded silently. "Alright."

* * *

  
Everything was in order, the room was set up, and basically looked the same as the White Room. Only a touch bigger, with a large wall screen opposing a plain door. And the only thing sitting in the center of the room was Urquhart, strapped to the same chair from the White room, since that apparently had been easier for the guards than re-restraining him to another chair.   
  
"So, J- jake? Joseph? Ugh, not-Corie, any idea if this drop-ship is gonna make contact, or are they just planning on going one-on-one with all of Concordia?"   
  
"Uh, no idea, sir. They still seem to be a ways out, but I think if they really wanted to they could've gotten us- er, you on the comm by now, so I guess we might be looking at going up against them."   
  
"Wow, okay. So, like, was Corie some sort of older sibling to you? 'Cause you seem to be lookin' to follow in their footsteps with a half-assed answer like that."   
  
A response came much quicker than Tim had expected. "I'm receiving a transmission now, patching it through."   
  
"Good job, Josie, you get to live another day," Timothy half-heartedly praised.   
  
"Oh! Thanks, s-" Tim abruptly cut off their communications, just as the wall screen    
flickered to life, showing a very... not-happy, but probably high-ranking, Dahl.   
  
"So it is true then. Handsome Jack didn't have his face melted off down on Pandora." Was apparently how Dahl's did greetings.   
  
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance too, sir-?" Even an idiot could have been able to tell the Dahl on screen was a woman. She seemed the type that wore her sex on her sleeve along with whatever her rank was, just to further drive home that she probably wasn't much of a taker of shit.   
  
"General."   
  
"Okay, General what?"   
  
"That's hardly important. What is however, is you having two of my men inside your city. I'd like them back."   
  
"Well, either your intel is off, or I've been greatly led astray as to how Xu identifies."   
  
"Consider my use of the term 'men' gender neutral for the duration of this conversation. I'm well aware of the fact that you have Private Xu, and Lieutenant Urquhart in your malicious care."   
  
Tim waved a hand at the screen as if her words had flustered him, "malicious? Me? General, are you trying to make me blush? Besides, I haven't given your men anything but the best treatment Concordia has to offer." Being somewhat of an improv-artist, he had no choice but to make use of what came next.    
  
Which was a pained, blood-curdling scream from the White Room just across the hall, its door wide open so the sound proofing did very little to diminish the sound. "About that-"   
  
Luckily, Urquhart decided to get rowdy, giving Tim more time to construct a proper explanation. "What the fuck are you doing to her?!"   
  
"Again, I'm not doing anything to Private Xu." Then he tossed a look over to the Commander. "What? I never said I was using men in the gender neutral sense-"   
  
"Stop them- stop hurting her, you bastard!" At this point Urquhart was struggling vainly to get himself free from his restraints, kicking his legs wildly in Tim's direction. Which was pretty funny looking, considering. The screams from the next room had already died down to complete and abrupt silence, and while the Dahl might not have known a sand dollar from beach glass, Tim sure as hell did. He knew that hadn't been Xu, but Eliza's own improvisations.   
  
"Happy? They're done. And really, I didn't have the choice. You might not have known this was bullshit-" Tim pulled the comm chip back out of his front pocket, showing it clearly so that both Urquhart and the General on screen could see it, "but I knew she would- so if you wanna blame anyone, blame her."   
  
"But- but why would you-"   
  
"Because," and now Tim gave Urquhart his back, fully facing the General on screen. "As long as that chip was in, General here would be able to gauge how much pain little Xu is in, but now- you'll have to take a guess for yourself by the intensity of her screams."   
  
It was barely more than a second later that the room's door swung open, and Nina came in, tossing Eliza-as-Xu and Tim-as-Jack-'s feet. Nina was obviously just here as herself. "Hong!"    
  
Urquhart's cry was completely ignored as Nina held something out to Tim, immediately placing the tracker into his hand. It was still wet with Xu's blood.   
  
"That's absolutely disgusting." Tim commented before looking up from it and adding, "thanks!"   
  
"Any time." Nina moved, but instead of leaving, took up standing with her large arms folded and her back to the door. Which in no words told Tim that Veronica had finished patching up Xu and was already being escorted back to her cell in the sub levels.   
  
"Mmm, would you take a look at that?" Tim moved over, so he stood to the side of Urquhart, in case the Dahl tried to take a kick at him, "certainly ain't something I'd wanna see before breakfast."   
  
Urquhart turned his head, pining Tim with a glare that could cut glass. Well, if looks    
could do that. And, perhaps it was a tad brash, but he found himself pursing his lips and blowing the soldier a kiss. Which the Dahl responded by spitting his face. Literally.   
  
"Erik!" The General shouted from the wall screen, clearly mortified that the soldier had the nerve. From the General's point of view, Jack was as dangerous as the all the rumours suggested, and now this kid had just spit in his face. They'd basically just signed off on their own death in her eyes. Of course, hearing the General shout his name, immediately hung his head like a child being scolded by their mother, instead of by a superior officer.   
  
Now hold on a second... Tim looked from the restrained soldier, to the General, back to the soldier, then back to the General.   
  
"Well shit, this is personal, isn't it?" Tim could already see the flicker of fear and    
uncertainty in her brown eyes. Warm, soft brown. "General  _ Urquhart _ ." The General kept her chin raised, refusing to do anything but continue to hold Timothy's gaze. Fuck, everything just got a hundred times more complicated, didn't they?  _ Shit, shit shit... maybe I can swing this into a more diplomatic conversation. _ "Well... with this bit of info, maybe you'd like to be a bit more forthcoming. No reason to make things more messy than need be."   
  
"You do realize the moment you cut into Private Xu, you crossed a line. And that there is no way to talk your way back over it."   
  
"Yes, well, that would hardly have been necessary if your  _ son _ would have simply come knocking like a good little boy instead of coming in guns raised- killed one of my better people, y'know-"   
  
"Hey! You killed t-" Erik started.   
  
"Details." Tim brushed him off, while also wiping his face clear of the soldiers rude gesture. "Point is, maybe if you'd tried diplomacy first, I wouldn't have felt like this..." Tim raised the hand still holding the sticky tracker-thing, "was necessary."   
  
General Urquhart eyed him silently, before she said, "given the fact that I was not even aware that 'diplomacy' was apart of your vocabulary, I can hardly be shamed for not attempting to be more professional.”   
  
"Alright, I suppose that's fair. But now that it's a known fact, shall we?"   
  
"How do you propose we begin?"   
  
"Well, I think you could start by coming clean about exactly why the hell you're coming around kicking dirt up on my moon. Xu here already spilt the beans about you guys doing a quick search around for a siren. But since you already know she- the siren- is dead, why not pull back out? Why go through all this work to have a chat with me? You've already made it more than clear how much of an unstable piece of work you think I am."  _ You think Jack is... You think Jack is unstable, I'm not Jack... I am not Jack. _ He noticed the General's eyes shift to look at the less than mobile form of Eliza-as-Xu.    
  
However the woman felt toward her, she sure as hell didn't show it on her face. "That is... we were hopeful that acquiring a siren would be a simple task. Failing that, the fact that rumours of you being alive were worth looking into. As much as it pains me to fuel your ego, you do have a knack for finding Vaults, and surviving them too."   
  
"Oh, tell me this is the part where you offer to go fifty/fifty with me with some wicked little Vault you've gotten your slimy militant hands on."   
  
"Hardly." General Urquhart responded immediately. "After all, you may be alive, but you seem to be lacking the resources you once had. Hyperion now has new CEO, does it not?"   
  
"Mm, no, not exactly. Jerry's just acting CEO right now."   
  
"So is the current owner of the Hyperion corporation also just pretending to have everything in their name, and not yours?"

  
Timothy had to admit, he really hadn't been expecting that. "Again... there's a bit more to that story as well. But if you're prepared to make some sort of deal with me- or rather, since this probably sounds more attractive- a deal between Dahl and Hyperion- I just might let you in on some of the details surrounding the recent change in ownership, among other things."   
  
The General was silently looking him over again. Searching his masked face as though looking for the catch- for some hint of what he might really be planning. "a deal between Dahl and Hyperion does sound attractive. Especially since most of our joint publicity is centered around us being enemies, it could be a nice little boost for both of us to seem like... not-enemies. At least for awhile."   
  
"Well, then it's settled. And to show just how gungho I am about this, you can land your ship somewhere comfy for you, and I'll have Xu here sent over promptly."   
  
The glare was back in seconds. "And what about the Lieutenant?"   
  
Tim gave a hardly convincing, disarming smile. "Oh, Erik here is gonna stay with me. After all, you and I are gonna need to have a private chat if we're actually to work together. Clear the air of a few things. You make your pitch, I make my modifications, even explain somethings that are probably making this sound fake as hell. But are you with me so far, kid?"   
  
The woman, who was clearly much older than he, arched a brow. "And how can I be assured you won't harm the Lieutenant?"   
  
"Well, honestly, my word won't do- so, how about his tracker thingie? That'll tell you    
whether or not he's being mistreated- of course I'll probably still have him swaddled in something soft in case he decides to harm himself in the interest of starting a war between us before we can even begin drawing up an alliance. Will that not suit your fancy?"   
  
He noted that she chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought it over. "Alright. I'll have someone sent down from the ship to pick up Xu. Provided she's alive. Otherwise, the deal is off before it starts."   
  
Tim gave a very cheeky grin at that. "Oh, she'll be right as rain for ya, sweetheart."   
  
The General eyed where Eliza was still laying, near enough unmoving, face down on the linoleum floor. "For Elpis' sake, I hope so."   
  
A few more pleasantries, and the transmission was cut. He had no more than half an hour to have Xu out of Concordia where the Dahl dropship could pick her up without any interference. And the date for their next chat, in person, would be tomorrow, at 1400.   
  
"So... that went well, I think." Tim almost entirely mumbled to himself as he idly slipped the sticky tracker thingy into his breast pocket alongside the comm chip.   
  
"If by 'well' you mean you went completely overboard, then I agree." Eliza rolled over    
onto her back before sitting up, wiping the sleeve of the uniform she wore across the side of her neck where some of Nina's blood-sludge had been caked on for dramatic affect. "And if you ever leave me alone in a room with that deranged bitch again, I'll castrate you."   
  
"Yeah, well, it's not like I knew that Dahl had a fricken' Vault. I assumed they were after one, sure- but that they already had one? Damn."   
  
"You consider she might'a been lyin' to you?"   
  
"Naturally, all the more reason to poke around a bit. Hey, you, slackjaw- any thoughts on whether or not Mama-Urquhart was serious about Dahl having a Vault?" Tim waved a hand in front of Erik's face- who had been staring with their mouth hanging open at Eliza since the moment she sat up and pushed her hair back out of her face.   
  
"You're not Hong."   
  
"Yeah, no shit." Eliza rolled her eyes at the soldier, pushing herself up and pulling and elastic from around her wrist as she started to put her thick hair up. "Assuming the Vault ain't bullshit- what then? They wouldn't even dream of having anything to do with Handsome Jack-unless they ain't got a choice. And I got a feelin' that it's linked to them lookin' for a siren. Jack was said to 'ave been usin' one to charge a key back in the day- so either they got themselves a key- or they got themselves an issue that they think throwin' a siren at outta solve. And either way- what do we do about that, then?"   
  
She had a lot of good points. None of which Tim hadn't already thought of- but still, it sucked that they were obvious enough that a novice could put those pieces together. After all, the Eliza's knowledge about Vaults and sirens only extended as far as what Tim had bothered telling her. Which admittedly, had been a lot. "Well, we know Lilith is still around, not that she's necessarily an option, but if I go to her, maybe we can enlist her help- along with the other Vault Hunters. I get the feeling Dahl won't be wanting to do any of the work for themselves."   
  
"Didn't she try to kill you? Like... more than once?"   
  
"Ehhh, probably? Whatever, it's still worth asking her about- and I mean, hell, if it gets me off Elpis, I'm there. Don't get me wrong, this place is like home to me-"   
  
"But at the end of the day, you're still a Vault Hunter?" Eliza supplied for him. And again, she wasn't wrong. It might have been years ago now, but there was a thrill in hunting a Vault, in actually getting inside one, exploring, and fighting your way through thick and thin- it was addicting shit.   
  
"What the hell is going on?"   
  
Eliza and Tim were standing practically on top of eachother at this point, talking in quiet, but excited voices back and forth, all the while, Nina had already left with the one other guard that had been in the room, leaving the two idiots alone with the confused Dahl.   
  
"Oh, right. Erik, this is El. That screaming you heard earlier? Also her. This chip? Is... actually Xu's, but she was completely out for the entire procedure, right?"   
  
"Yeah. Right as rain, like you said. Might 'ave some neck pain for a couple days, though. Also, this ain't Handsome Jack."    
  
"Also true."   
  
"What?" Erik actually seemed about as shocked at this as he had about Xu actually being Eliza the whole time. Which either said a lot about how surprising the soldier had found that, or how unsurprising Tim not being Jack was.   
  
"Yup," Tim saw no point in hiding it. He certainly intended to unmask for the General as well. "So, uh, sorry about all that... before." Tim tried an apologetic smile, but he just couldn't convince his lips to turn up so he just ended up showing a bit of teeth before letting his lips form a thin line again. With a sigh, he just pulled the mask off instead, stretching out his face muscles before turning back to Eliza.    
  
"Alright, so first thing on the list of to-dos- get Xu on her feet and out the door. Probably best we leave her to sleep off the drugs in her system though. They'll assume it's probably trauma induced amnesia that'll wear off eventually, so they'll still come into the meeting tomorrow knowing about as much as they did when we ended the transmission just a minute ago."   
  
"Sounds good."   
  
"I'm still really confused." Erik piped up again. "You're really not Jack?"   
  
"Yeah, but he prefers to be called Tim, or Timothy. Calling him not-Jack kind of makes him uncomfortable." She looked at him, then added, "okay, not 'kind of', it  _ does _ make him uncomfortable"


	15. Catalyst

_ “I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them,  _ _ and to dominate them. _ **_”_ **

\- Oscar Wilde -   
  


 

**He felt i** t. Like rain against his cheek. But when his hand finally managed to touch his face, he would not feel the wet drops of water against his skin. And before his eyes would snap open, he'd know what had been so urgent about being away from the clearing before the barrier broke.   
  
The Guardian's barrier had been created by eridium. And when that barrier shattered-the eridium had to go somewhere- and that was apparently down, in the form of violet rain drops, that splashed against the fauna, and soaked into the soil, and into his suit, his skin. His veins.  _ Mm, I don't fink I like that... No, don't like that at all. _   
  
Oh, but he was a liar. A damn good one, at least when there was someone else to fool. But between him and himself? Awful. Terrible. Couldn't lie at all. He could see through his own bullshit as easily as he could see through the clear water of one of the fishing ponds.    
  
While the eridium still clung to his hair, wet and slick, the moment it touched skin, he could feel it seep in through his pores- oh how easily he could have repelled such a thing, but oh how much he had secretly missed the thrill of it. It burned, like when he had taken his first swig of Elpian 'shine from a mate's flask- but the effects of the eridium on his senses, his body, his mind- they all came much faster than the false warmth of liquor.   
  
He was weightless, but at the same time he carried the entirety of the moon on his very soul. He could feel every vein of eridium as it pulsed in the rock around him- stretching across kilometers, in every nook, every cranny- he felt as though if he forgot himself for even a moment, he'd be lost in the vastness of it all.   
  
Pickle was standing before he realized it.    
Fingers pulling themselves through his tangled mess of hair, gathering it all up, as though he were about to put it up in one messy bun. Dragging his finger up the back of his neck to collect any stray hairs, his fingers paused, tracing each of the six small oval shaped ports. Two and half years, and the skin around them was still tender, making him shiver as eridium dripped off his hair, onto his neck where it seeped into his body. It was more fuel for an unquenchable fire that burned deep in his chest, and managed to flare along his back, no doubt making every inch of his marked skin flare a fluorescent blue beneath his battlesuit. Perrty. These feelings and revelations only lasted a whole of five seconds, before he felt them- mere moments before he heard the distant popping sounds.   
  
Agitated by the mysterious rain that pelted against their fleshy skin, a group of Stalkers were on the prowl for something to take their discontent out on. Something that could also be hopefully repurposed later for food. Three meters to the south, they knew he was there, standing, to them, as if struck dumb. He would appear an easy enough target, but still they would spread out, preparing to strike from every side of the small meadow.   
  
But he wasn't standing there dimly at all. In fact, he had noticed something that would keep him from being completely defenseless. Though even he could admit not by much. Leaning against the nearest infused pillar, was a staff. It wasn't anything fancy, or long. About as tall as    
Pickle was, take off a few inches, it looked as though the grip at the center had been fashioned from the hide of a Stalker, and about a hand's width of space at either end looked to be of the same rock as the pillar it stood against. Pickle had no idea how he was expected to use it, but it also wasn't like he had any other options, unless he wanted to battle off the ensuing gang with palm sized rocks. Pickle closed his left hand around the grip of the staff, and immediately he knew it was of eridian make- even if the design hadn't been an obvious give away- goosebumps ran up his arm as he felt eridium coat the grip, as if the weapon produced the stuff like the trees around him produced oxygen.   
  
But alongside the added buzz, came a thought, one that was not his own. A tiny message that had been instilled into the staff for when he took it in his hand. " _ A gift; to show my good will _ ."   
  
That had been the message, but not how he had heard it. A shiver creeped up his spine, as he gripped the staff with both hands, the sound of the Stalkers finally ceasing, just beyond the edge of the clearing, where they waited.   
  
He could feel each drop of eridium that splashed against their skin. The tightening in their muscles as they readied for combat. The apprehension when he turned in a slow circle,  showing off the staff that had been made from the hide of one of their kin.   
  
Sure, Pickle had no idea how he was supposed to use the thing- but they didn't know that. Just like how they didn't need to know that despite their hardened predator instincts- as long as the barrier continued to rain down upon the Forest, he had the advantage. "'Ave at it, then."   
  
Pickle knew, as long as the eridium clung to their poreless hides, he would have their locations, even if they blinked out of sight. The hiss from his foreword right, he knew, was a feint. Meant to draw a weaker prey's attention, as the Stalker purposely advanced from the thickets, slow and methodically, to ensure the prey would step back blindly towards the waiting maw of a second Stalker that would come dodging from the brush in seconds, the third and fourth at its heels.   
  
But he was not weaker prey. He wasn't even prey. Just kind of a tad unlucky, he supposed. He positioned one foot back, as if preparing to take off and flee the first, but rather, he leaned his weight back, before lunging forth, and to his relief, catching the Stalker by surprise. 

  
Pickle gripped the staff with both hands, bringing it up to catch the Stalker under the chin, snapping its head back, before maneuvering the staff back down, slamming its ugly mug into the ground. The first stumbled, and Pickle pulled back, before jabbing outward with the staff, hitting the Stalker right in its chest and sending it off clean out of the clearing and back into the brush with little more than a yelp cut short.   
  
Pickle turned with a swift motion, swinging the staff round so it laid across his back, his left hand down, and his right hand catching it up against his shoulder. His weight was center balanced, his right foot forward, toes facing out, and his left leg back, toes facing to the left. He hoped that, at the very least, he looked like he knew what he was doing. If not for his battlesuit covering every inch of his body save for his face and hands, he'd be able to manipulate the drops of eridium falling around them- just enough to give him an edge. Just enough to tighten the skin of the second Stalker that was advancing, while the third and fourth seemed to have realized that their usual strategy wouldn't be effective against him. At least they didn't appear to be considering brute force as in alternative. Yet.   
  
It might not have been a good time to be experimental, but considering he had no    
experience to go by instead, Pickle  _ experimentally _ let the staff slide from his right hand until it touched soil, before gripping it firmly in his left, moving it out as though he were drawing the makings of a circle in the damp ground. Just as the second Stalker came forward, mouth agape, teeth snapping and dripping with saliva- the staff finished a full 180, where it met with his right hand again, and he swung it up, just before driving it back down, burying the Stalker's face into the ground much as he had the other one. But this time, something else happened entirely.   
  
He let his focus take the back seat, his mind watching as though he were watching an ECHOvid instead of his own actions. His grip shifted, as if seeking out worn holds in the staff that he'd known of all long. With the twist of his wrists, an obsidian spear head emerged from the tip of the staff, that was then driven home in the skull of the Stalker that he held beneath his boot.    
  
It died with little more than a squeak, before going limp under his foot; residual nerves making it twitch as he pulled the staff's tip from its head. Pickle was left unsure if he should indulge his short burst of triumph, or double over vomiting at the spray of gore that followed the receding blade that tucked back out of sight as his grip on the staff shifted again.   
  
But he was no longer in his own body- no longer in direct control of his motions, or his actions- his focus shifted away from himself, to instead gauge the reaction of the third and fourth Stalkers, while also getting a location on a Fifth, that lurked just out of view, deep in the thickets- only just close enough to survey the actions of this new threat.   
  
_ Wait- hang on, what in- _   
  
Pickle snapped back into his own head, just as his grip tightened around the staff in a new position, and his entire body lightened, but not in the same sense as it did with the eridium-this only made him  _ feel _ lighter, all the while still keeping him entirely aware that his general weight was still the same. That alone jarred him back to his senses, a sensory delay between the first popping sound, and a second when he stumbled sideways, and slammed his back against a pillar, a puff of familiar smoke-substance emanating from not him- but the staff in his weakened grip. It was then that he realized that the staff's grip was not only made of Stalker hide- but in the core of the weapon itself; there was the same hormone that allowed the creatures to blink in and out of sight.   
  
But time was precious, and he couldn't spend it studying all the secrets the staff held, as the pair of Stalkers before him used those few seconds he stood in shocked surprise as a moment to step over the dead body of their brethren; advancing toward him, while at the same time snapping at one another- as if quarreling who got the first bite. Which was an easy enough question for him to answer- it would be neither of them.   
  
Once more, he allowed the eridium guide his actions- fully giving in to every twist and turn his instincts demanded he take. While against more evolved opponents that were capable of adjusting their attacks when given new information- he would have simply tucked tail and ran in the other direction- against these Stalkers, he already knew that he would prevail. Or rather, he was way to damn high on a rush of eridium to care if he didn't win.   
  
The grass beneath his feet was slick from the rainfall, and he used that to his advantage as the Stalker nearest pushed itself up off the one beside it, as if to throw itself fully at him; but instead he threw himself forward as well, only he felt his legs go out from under him; the obsidian spear head protruding from the staff once more as he slid beneath the third Stalker, gashing it from throat to arse, and managing to just barely find his feet again in time to dodge a spray of needles from the tail of the fourth. He even managed to deflect one with the staff itself.   
  
"You, and me- who ya fink is walkin' out of 'ere?" Good job, Pickle, taunt the thing that could kill you. Bravo, lil buddy.   
  
Pop, pop! It flickered out of sight- and Pickle figured- what the hell? And followed suit- his grip on the staff shifting, until it tightened in just the right spot that he disappeared with the same dramatic poof of smoke like sparkle as the Stalker.   
  
_ Oh, well... y'know tha's a bit different, now innit? _ As it turned out, while in the same state as the Stalker opposing him- they had a perfect shared visual of one another. To Pickle's good grace, that manage to psych the Stalker right out enough for Pickle to get the first strike in.    
  
But he wasn't about to repeat the same song and dance as before- this time there would be no gut-shot, or head shot from his staff- instead he planted his foot into the side of its ugly face, and slashed out with his staff, obsidian point glistening in the rain as he severed the tip of Stalker's tail from the rest of its body.   
  
Which proved to be as effect as if he had taken one of the Stalker's limbs off. Only apparently a great deal more painful. The Stalker shrunk back with a blood curdling wail, its' severed tail thrashed from side to side, spraying a dark greenish blood as it screeched and stumbled away from him. The way the Stalker cringed back from him; the horrid shrieks, the wails, the way the creature curled around its severed piece. It struck him so profoundly, that the staff fell from his fingers- not all the eridium in the entire Cavern could numb him to the point of not feeling some ounce of guilt for what he'd just done. Pickle didn't even know what exactly taking the tip of the Stalker's tail had actually done- but the way it cowered, they way it wailed- too many memories, too many emotions, all amplified by the eridium crushed him as surely as the Cavern ceiling would if it were to fall on him at that exact moment in time. He was paralyzed, and yet shaking all the way to his core.   
  
If things hadn't been so expertly timed. If the hand of fate had not been on his side; at that exact moment, the fifth and long forgotten, Stalker would have buried their own venomous tail between his shoulder blades- and that very well could have been the end of it all. But things didn't go that way. The story didn't end yet, as Aris made their reappearance through the thick of the trees, exterior shell rock hard as they threw their full weight into the fifth, and sent the creature flying into a pillar of rock as if the Stalker had been made of nothing more than rag cloth.   
  
Still, Pickle couldn't drag his gaze, nor his attention from the grieving Stalker in front of him.  _ Why is this any different? Why does this cut me so deep? _ Looking at the creature- he couldn't determine whether he was projecting his inner pains on the creature- or a horrid twist on the reality of everything he'd done in his effort to escape his own damnation. How many lives had he taken? Even before that? How many people had been on that airship? How many had been caught in the blast of the one that made it back to Helios? Providence? And his numerous attempts at escaping his fate within the Eridium Labs? What about Valentine? And even Mason? How many had he killed simply because he had lost control? Or because he'd been told to do it?   
  
Was this creature just another to add to the list? In the grand scheme of it all- would they count as well? The Stalker would have killed him- or was that just a way to justify the means to an end?   
  
" _ This is what you are. This is what your kind does. To simply take the life of another is not enough for you- you yearn to take it all. _ "   
  
The battle between Aris and the last Stalker continued to make background noise as Pickle considered the words that whispered from all around him- he didn't even have to look to know that the Guardian would be nowhere to be found.   
  
"You're wrong."   
  
" _ Am I? How do you come to such a conclusion? _ "   
  
"Because it ain't that simple. I didn't do this on purpose- this isn't somefin I would 'ave done to anyone- nor anyfing." He knew, Pickle knew before he approached the Stalker, that it was only a matter of time before it would bleed out- apparently the tail's of Stalkers had some sort of major artery, because the poor thing was gushing. Still, he swallowed the bile rising in his throat, already familiar with how he needed to grip the staff to bring out the obsidian blade. One heavy handed stab through the Stalker's surprisingly weak skull, and it no longer writhed in pain, and whined in agony. "Killing something is bad enough, Guardian. But this… it takes a certain level of twisted that I never want to reach to do this on purpose.”   
  
He stepped away, surveying the quiet clearing, making sure not to let his eyes linger too long on any of the gored bodies. As relieved as he was to see that Aris had come out of their own fight victorious, he couldn't find it within himself to respond in kind as he slowly started to feel more numb than anything else.   
  
" _ Is it really so bad for you, catalyst?" _   
  
Pickle turned his face up, looking toward the ceiling that still occasionally rumbled, but the rain had stopped, and only a few drops of eridium dripped from the ceiling. He didn't know what kind of answer the Guardian expected, and he had no idea what answer to give besides. “I don't know, but it ain't good for me.”   
  


 

* * *

  
  
" _Eridium[_ not really a translator's note, but uh, and I'm no historian thingie, but I'm thinking that since they're called Eridians, these vain little bastards named this element after themselves _]. The element had acted as their salvation, during a dark time when even the divine powers of the six Rulers had not been enough. With the discovery of this element, the Illness had then_ _been averted, cities built were settlements had fallen. An Age of Harmony had ensued._ __  
__  
_The stupid, vain[_ hah, I'm psychic- or am I just really bad at translating and just want to drag these assholes for being rude to one of their own kind? they were banging on in the last passage about how neat and advanced they are and yet hey! they're dickbags just like everyone else! _], things that they were. Not once did they question. Not once did they consider, that this reprieve from the Illness was merely a temporary stasis. How had they been so_ _blinded, as not to assume that it would fester[_ i still hate this word _] within their own bodies, growing, changing as steadily as they did?_  
  
_Surein, they had no hearts, not as mankind[_ translator's note: still a little concerned that they reference us? how do they know about us if they existed so long beforehand? food for thought, my dudes _] do. But still something pulsed beneath their [_ armour? _], beneath the vessels that kept their organs supplied with that which gave them life. It contained all that made them what they were-_ _that was where the Illness had started, where it would stay, so long as they lived on, it would slowly spread. Like the first frost across the ground- by the time you realized just how far the icy tendrils reached; your crops have_ _already succumbed, died off. As would their magnificent civilization, should there ever be an epidemic of this Illness again. [_ good use of imagery here; too bad you're dead, asshole _]_  
  
_But the civilization flourished, with the new element at their every behest, the six Rulers were never stronger, their subject's lives never richer[_ translator's note: i sure do hope that's the word they were going for again, otherwise that last passage should not be published anywhere but a xxx mag _], - but like all good things, a toll must be paid. It came in the form of a new class to be [_ cared _] and [_ nurtured _]. The Age of Eridium[_ translator's note: yeah so, either whoever wrote this in the ye olde day mcf*cked up and forgot whether it was the age of eridium or of harmony- or they just took their old sweet time writing this passage and didn't finish until the next age __] became the Era of the Catalysts;  while they held no true blame- as what their names implied, they created the stepping stones that led to the next outbreak of the Illness.[ you know what, I bet this 'Illness' is just some over the top reaction to the sniffles]"  
  


  
  
Passage 3/3 found in the ruins at: [ _ error: information redacted _ ]    
  
Dig Located on the Planet: [ _ error: information redacted _ ]   
  
Translated by: [ _ error: information changed by an unknown source _ ] hey! editor mcAss clown! I'm suing you! because you refuse to credit me! you cringy old [ _ error: information redacted _ ]!   



	16. Propositions

_ "I wanted to give up the idea I had any control. Shake things up. To be saved by chaos.  _ __  
_ To see if I could cope, I wanted to force myself to grow again.  _ __  
__ To explode my comfort zone."   


\- Chuck Palahniuk -   
  


  
"Ah, so Handsome Jack is dead then."

  
Tim swallowed a long sigh as he sat back from his desk, arms folded across his chest; the mask was lying face up on the desk between them. "Let me guess, this is the part where you tell me you had assumed as much?"   
  
The General actually blinked at him, as if taken aback by his moot response. "Hardly, you  are an incredibly effective doppelganger. I would hate to go against you in poker, if that better establishes how I feel about this reveal."   
  
Tim allowed a small smile to tease the corner of his lips. "Yeah well, let me put you at ease by assuring you I have no idea how to even play poker."   
  
"With the way you lie, you wouldn't even need too," Eliza was standing off, leaning    
against the fish tank, dressed in a well-fitted Hyperion work suit. Of course Tim had already gotten into the habit of making all the newer uniforms in the old Hyperion colours. Yellow just did not look good. And personally, he had always had a taste for the red on black.   
  
Timothy cleared his throat, shooting her a look, before unfolding his arms and leaning forward to place his forearms on the desk, hands clasped now. "Alright, so with that out of the way- hopefully we can in fact act civilized. No games, no tricks, and no lies. I am willing to put all my cards on the table, and all I can hope is that you'll do the same."   
  
The General sat back in a chair that was decently comfortable, purposely brought up from one of the lounge rooms so that Tim could hopefully avoid making the woman feel insulted. "I suppose... considering Elpis' past history with Dahl... and Hyperion's past history with Dahl, as well as Elpis' past-"   
  
"Oh-kay. Hate to interrupt, truly, but please get to the point. Because we already know that not everyone is the best of friends, and that old wounds exist. But as long as you're in my office, I assure you, that whatever you have to say, you can say it. No one is gonna pull a gun on you or anything, there's no need to tip-toe around any subjects, we can suss it all out as we go along. Agreed?"   
  
She paused again, but eventually nodded. "Agreed. So getting back on track- Dahl isn't interested in starting a fight with anyone- but Hyperion still being in the area has made things feel... complicated. May I ask... are you, or are you not, still affiliated with the corporation?"   
  
"I am."   
  
His quick answer seemed to once again off balance her. The General seemed to lose a bit of her bluster once she was addressed in person. "Oh- I... how exactly-"   
  
"I own it. The rights, deeds- all of it is in my name, and owned by me. I, in short, have the Board of Directors in my hand that if I so chose, could take full command as CEO any time I wished. But with things as they've been on Elpis, I've more or less left the company on auto-pilot and in the hands of Jeffrey Blake, who is, no doubt as you know, the current acting CEO, until I either appoint someone else, or take over myself."   
  
"I see." A level of composure returned to her face as she straightened in her seat, hands folded neatly in her lap as she gave a single, concise nod. "Then I suppose if this goes well, then a joint custody between Dahl and Hyperion will be possible after all."   
  
_ Dahl just loves to leave their sentences hanging _ ... "Joint custody? Of what? This have something to do with that Vault you were hinting at? Because if so, I can agree, otherwise..."   
  
It was a small smile, but the bad vibes it let out were big enough to fill the room. "Yes and no. I do hope to strike a bargain over the Vault with you- Hyperion notwithstanding- but I think there's something else you might be in a position to agree on as well- seeing as you've become somewhat of a lapdog for Elpis, no? I hear there's been a Council pulling your strings lately. Just can't handle the idea of not following someone else's orders?"   
  
_ Ouch, okay, wow _ . Even Eliza seemed to stiffen from the tone the General used. "Something like that." Tim waved her off, allowing himself a stray glance at the General's son, who was sitting over in a less than comfortable chair that was beside Eliza. His hands still kept him bound to the chair, but he at least seemed to have the decency not to talk since General Urquhart had shown up. "But what about getting to the point? Which should be a Vault. I am still a Vault Hunter, which is, I assume, the real reason you want to talk to me, so why don't we leave Elpis out of this- or at least leave it until after we get the important shit out of the way?"   
  
Her lips returned to a thin line as she nodded yet again. "Of course. I had suspected that the Vault would be the main focus anyways, so I may as well sate your curiosity."   
  
The rest of the meeting lasted a whole of an hour, and honestly, Tim ended up wishing they'd spent more time on the banter- at least then maybe it wouldn't have ended so poorly in his favour.   
  
"So..." Eliza started about five minutes after the General had left. "I fink that went well, don't you?"   
  
Tim was leaning forward with his head resting his arms, which had been his state of self since General Urquhart had left with her son in tow. "Depends on what your definition of ' _ well _ ' is."   
  
Eliza was still leaning against the fishtank- one of the few things Tim had actually liked about the office. "We aren't dead. We struck a deal with Dahl that not only ensures the moon doesn't get completely mauled over by them, but by no one else either. And we also have a chance to score a Vault."   
  
Tim slowly sat himself up, head back as he gave Eliza a stoic look. "Lovin' the use of the word ' _ we _ ' there. Do I have to point out that the deal isn't between you, me and Dahl- it's solely between Hyperion and Dahl. Almost entirely, and exclusively. And the only reason Elpis is being left out of it is for leverage if we don't get them their Vault. Did you not pick any of that up? They might be willing to supply transport to whatever backwater planet this Vault of theirs is on, but their generosity is intended to end there."   
  
Eliza shrugged. She shrugged-  _ how could she shrug?! _ "Is that really such a big deal? It ain't like you got shallow pockets, Lawrence- or did you just forget that you own Hyperion? Yes, the split for whatever loot there is won't be even- but there is still a 35% of that going directly to your corporation- 45% to Dahl- and they left the other 20% for you to shell out to the Vault Hunters on Pandora to convince them to lend a hand. Because you're right, Dahl ain't gonna be much good once it comes to gettin' inside of this Vault of their's. And if it comes down to it- give the Vault Hunter's your thirty five, and settle for the twenty. I don't even know them, but I bet they'd go right bananas for that."   
  
Tim started to rub his chin as he considered that. She wasn't wrong- even if Hyperion was under new management, he doubted any Vault Hunter on Pandora would be particularly gungho about helping the corporation that had attempted to completely destroy the planet. But the idea that they might get more out of a deal then Hyperion might pique some amount of interest. Besides, what had Tim ever done to Pandora? All of his work had kept him on Elpis, and it was Lilith that had tried to kill him.    
  
"You're... not wrong... But the less of a percentage Hyperion gets, the less I'll be able to pull strings to get help. Don't get me wrong, the Board of Directors adore me, considering who they've had as past comparisons- but they wouldn't be willing to throw away resources that won't receive proper compensation for." Tim let out a groan as something crossed his mind- hands fiercely rubbing across his forehead. "Shit, I'm gonna have to set up a meeting with the Council. They've been on my ass ever since I let them know Dahl was sniffing around- and no doubt they've already caught wind of this meeting. It's probably best I contact them before they start squeezing info from anyone else."   
  
"I doubt they'll be a problem for you. Sure, they're probably still sore about Helios, but the fact that now they'll 'ave it in writing that Elpis is neutral ground under not only Hyperion's protection, but Dahl's? They'll probably be asking you to run the moon. Again."   
  
Tim found himself dreading that. He hadn't exactly talked before the Council about the exact details of what happened that sent Helios crashing down to Pandora. But he'd heard enough over the grapevine that they weren't happy to know that Elpis' first line of defence had been destroyed. See, Timothy Lawrence had become the owner of Hyperion the moment Handsome Jack had kicked off- and while he remembered Jack getting him to sign big, important documents at some point, and had even heard the man talk about the idea as a ' _ last resort _ ', Tim never actually took it all seriously. Jack willingly putting together a document that stated someone else would get ownership of Hyperion if he died implied that Jack was actually capable of grasping his own mortality.   
  
And what was worse, was what the whole ordeal insinuated. When he first held the    
deed to Hyperion in his hands, it was like a punch in the gut. Handsome Jack had genuinely believed that Tim had been enough like him, that he left his entire legacy to the Doppelganger. The rabbit hole only got deeper whenever Tim let himself consider all the implications, all the reasons, that could have led the now dead man to his decision.   
  
"Lawrence? Hey, are you listenin' to me at all?"   
  
Tim blinked the room back into focus, looking up at Eliza who had no moved to lean over  his desk. "Huh?"   
  
She gave him a droll stare, before rolling her eyes with a sigh. "I said, the Council's love for you aside- 'ow  _ are _ you going to explain yourself to the Vault Hunters? You might want a plan, after all, once they know you've been running Hyperion since Handsome Jack's been brown bread dead, you'll probably 'ave a lot to answer for."   
  
"Oh... right. That... that is a very good point, actually..." While he'd managed to set up a cease-fire between Elpis and Hyperion- he couldn't exactly pull enough of his weight around to have Helios completely abandon Pandora. And after a while, he'd gotten so wrapped up with everything on Elpis, he'd pretty much forgotten about all that- as horrible as it sounded. "I mean... Wing it? I guess?"   
  
"Wif' a face like yours? Good luck wif' that."   
  
Tim tried to think of something a bit more solid to go with, but honestly? His brain was mush. He hadn't slept in what felt like years and thinking was not something he felt like doing. "Look, I'll deal with the Council first. I'll even take Nina with me when I go, you can stay up here with the Courier, and, I dunno... braid each other's hair? Just stay out of trouble, and don't go antagonizing anyone."   
  
"Whateva' you say,  _ Larry _ ."   
  
" **Eliza** -"   
  


* * *

  
The Council had originally consisted of six members. Two members from Concordia, two from Providence, one from Delta, and the last one from Beta. But after Theta had all but been rebuilt, there were now seven members. And while most of their responsibilities were syphoned off on Tim, they still did a fair deal of work to keep Elpis running to the point that even someone from the inner planets would have been impressed by how prosperous the moon had become.    
  
Economically, at least.   
  
"Enter." That was one of the Providence members, as was obvious by their stupid faux accent. Most of the stiff-starched shorts of Providence had some sort of obsession with building a wonderful city, and then filling it to the brim with morons that wouldn't know reality from a pile of kraggon crap.   
  
This sort of song-and-dance that was always gone through when it came to addressing the Council was probably the most boorish part. The Council's chamber had been set up in Providence, sort of as a big f-u considering the members that actually came from the city were given very little hold when it came to the decision making.   
  
"Hey, guys, how've you been?" Tim greeted, completely lacking the proper connotations that he was supposed to use when addressing the Council. He just wasn't feeling the stiff-collar bullshit today.   
  
In seven seats behind a raised table, sat the members of the Council- only three seemed pleased to see him. From left to right it went, Concordia, Delta, Providence, Theta, Providence, Beta, and Concordia. "You are expected to maintain proper format when addressing us, Timothy Lawrence." Spoke the one that sat just to the left of the one in the middle, with large horn-rimmed glasses that were ludicrously bedazzled with knock-off persephonian pearls. A member of Providence, clearly.   
  
"Sorry, Archibald, didn't mean any offense. I just didn't think that you wanted me to waste your time- I mean, don't you have your weekly perm an hour from now?"   
  
The bald man glared down at him, his face about as appealing as a poorly mashed crab-apple. Meanwhile a member of Delta, and the two from Concordia snickered behind their hands.   
  
"Lawrence, I assume you didn't call for a meeting simply to drag the name of one of our fellow Council members." The woman to right of the Theta member spoke. She was the other one from Providence, and her name always managed to elude him. Which was a pity, considering she was probably one of three decent people Providence had to offer. "State your reasoning for calling yourself to our attention, please."   
  
Tim nodded, stepping into the center of the room, directly below the main light- which always managed to make his skin crawl. Like if he said one wrong word, the floor would open up and swallow him whole, casting him into a all-consuming abyss. Behind him, he was only somewhat comforted by Nina's presence, who stayed just out of the main room, leaning against the far wall. Silent, but dominating.    
  
"Of course, ma'am. I come before the Council, to... ehh,  _ somewhat _ , put your minds at ease." He stood, with his back straight, and his hands clasped behind his back. "As you've likely noticed, Dahl has been making moves on Elpis. But just earlier today, I had a nice little tete-a-tete with General Urquhart. They have no interest in harming the moon- and they are in fact, willing to pay a sort of reimbursement for the damages suffered from the Lost Legion."   
  
The member from Delta perked at this. "Oh? And 'ow they plan on payin' this, eh?" They were a textbook Elpian, with light hair and your average amount of scraps and healing cuts across their face and exposed arms.   
  
"Protection, and investment. With Helios gone, the most protection Hyperion offers you can't go much further than writing, while we can still maintain trade routes, even that has admittedly slowed over the months. Dahl is now willing to give you that, along with three ships, that will remain at your behest. As it so happens, they are aware that Elpis has a growing economy- we all know what the artisans in Providence are capable of with a little moonstone. Safe transportation to start selling wares to the Eden's."   
  
This time Beta piped up. "Hasn't Hyperion already given us as much? If I'm correct we already have a steady import and export of goods from Eden-7."   
  
"This is true, but Hyperion doesn't have the same contacts as Dahl, not anymore at least-   
no, Dahl can get Elpis set up with safe trade routes between here and Eden-4, and even Eden-3. And unlike Hyperion, the ships given to you, will remain loyal to you. They go when you say, they return when you say. Minimal crew can and will be supplied by Dahl, but ultimately, who comes and goes will be yours to decide."   
  
Archibald's face scrunched, their eyes nearly disappearing back into his sunken sockets. "And this is free of charge, is it?"   
  
Timothy bowed his head, showing some amount of humility. "No, it is not. Not to    
Hyperion anyways. The fees that Hyperion collects through our pre existing agreements will be cut in half- the additional half now being collected by Dahl instead."   
  
Archibald let out a dusty laugh, that eventually became little more than a phlegmy hacking sound. "Ah, so it's power-play! Dahl must really have you by the balls to get you to agree to that, Hyperion." He seemed to have more to add, but a Concordia member spoke up.   
  
"There must be some other catch, Timothy. I'm sure we can all agree that this isn't something Dahl would do simply for a stab at Hyperion." Her name was Victoria, with glossy auburn curls that were pinned neatly back from her heart-shaped face. Despite her girlish looks, she'd always been a sharp one, and if you got on her bad side- she was anything but soft.   
  
"That is true, Vic, There is a catch, and it isn't a particularly nice one- Elpis has become collateral."   
  
Six faces turned down, changing the atmosphere in the near empty room into a somber one. But the seventh face, the man that sat directly before him, looked thoughtful. Around the age of fifty, Aspen Lithe was only barely beginning to show his years. Dark, near black hair was only just beginning to grey around the temples, and streaks of it in his perfectly manicured beard. Burn marks licked up across his neck, but stopped just short of his jawline, the light pinkish scarring overly noticeable against the man's dark skin, and stretching beneath his shirt to cover most of his chest and right side. While it was popular lore that no one had survived the bombing of Theta- it had never been entirely true.   
  
"What are the stakes, Lawrence?" His voice was thick, and rich, and whenever he felt the need to speak during the Council meetings, no one dared to interrupt. Even Archibald had the sense to keep his tongue in check.   
  
"Well, while it's true I own the rights, the deeds, everything- when it comes to Hyperion- I don't exactly run the place. Aside from the duties I have been given to Concordia and Elpis, I have always remained one thing. And unfortunately, I've been hired on by Dahl based on this one thing."   
  
Confused glances were passed around between the other six at the table, but Aspen's grey eyes remained on Tim as he nodded in understanding. "Dahl's found a Vault, then. And they want you to get it what's inside. But even a seasoned Vault Hunter might not be willing to throw themselves at such a task- so if you refuse?"   
  
Tim let out a small, tired sigh. "If I refuse, I won't have Helios to defend Elpis with this time."   
  
Aspen nodded once more, before he said, "then I suppose you had better find some dancing shoes, Lawrence. And put one hell of show on for them."   
  


* * *

  
He arrived back in Concordia four hours later. An hour was spent fleshing out the details of Tim leaving Elpis, and having Nina take over the majority of his responsibilities in Concordia.    
  
The other three were actually spent in Aspen's company, who had been apart of one of the recent trade groups to Eden-7. One thing lead to another, as it usually did, and at the very least, Tim left in a better mood than when he had arrived in Providence. He was half-way through a yawn when he walked through his office open archway, not entirely prepared for the scene in front of him.   
  
"Hey, Tim." The Courier waved from where they sat cross-legged on his desk, Eliza standing behind them, braiding their hair. "How'd that meeting go?"   
  
"Uh. You know, it was a meeting, stuff was said- why,  _ why _ are you sitting on my desk? There's a chair right there? And another two over there- so? Eliza?"   
  
She just did her usual shrug, two pins between her teeth as she tightly twirled strands of the Courier's hair together. "Fel' like it." Was all she managed to get out.   
  
"Yeah, that and the desk's a good height. We was playin' card games for awhile, but then you took a tad longer than we thought you would. I was gonna braid her hair next, y'know."   
  
"Oh, oh really? Sounds peachy- but maybe some other time- I'm craving a smoke, and I need to talk to you- no not you, go do your job or something."   
  
The Courier shrugged at him, already making Tim assume he'd left the impressionable sweetheart with Eliza for too long. They mumbled a thanks to Eliza after she tied their hair off, "no problem, catch you la'er, Corie." Eliza had responded as they scooted off Tim's desk and out of his office, with little more than a sheepish nod for a farewell to Tim.    
  
"Must you corrupt everyone you come in contact with?"    
  
"Wha-? You said we should braid each o'fer's hair, so tha's what we did."   
  
"No- I meant, they  _ shrugged _ at me, El. Courier doesn't shrug at me. They either 'yes sir', or 'no sir'- they do not  _ shrug _ . Only  _ you _ shrug at me."   
  
Eliza scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wha'eva. What did you wanna talk about then?"   
  
Tim waved her off. "Not here, like I said, I want a smoke, so let's go find an empty    
balcony, we'll talk there- you mind?"   
  
"Only if you're not sharing." She teased, since Tim had already offered her a smoke, once upon a time- to which she nearly coughed out a lung, and then when it finally hit her she almost threw up on him.   
  
They found a balcony easily enough, considering it was what passed for night hours in Concordia, and most of the people who frequented his office level were at their posts- or gone to their quarters- or spending a paycheck down at the bar- which was once Moxxi's Up Over, but had been taken over by someone going by the name Roxxi, and renamed the Down Under. Which had the habit of making Tim bite back a laugh every time he walked past it.   
  
"I take it Aspen's back from Eden-7." Eliza broke the silence about a minute after they'd gotten out onto the balcony.   
  
Tim leaned against the outer wall, not sure if he was envious or agitated by the way Eliza relaxed with her back to the balcony railing, hands stretched on either side as she casually looked behind her at whatever was below. "What makes you say that?"   
  
"Well, it's hardly been a minute and you've almost finished your cigarette. Very Dionysian of you, by the way. Always lightin' one up after you've-"   
  
"Do you mind?"   
  
"Not at all, obviously. I fink it's good for you, you know. It migh' not be any'fin serious, but... a' least it's some'fin, eh?"   
  
Tim tilted his head up, letting a lung full of smoke escape his lips, watching as it    
immediately disappeared the moment it passed through the other side of the oxygen bubble. "You really mean any of that? Or are you just trying to make me feel bad for you?"   
  
She rolled her eyes at him, yet again. "You know despite my jokes and jabs I don' care about any of that. Wha's good for you, s' good for you, don' mean it's good for everyone else, though."   
  
Tim's head bobbled from side to side before it eventually ended up resembling a nod. "Fair enough." He took another drag.   
  
Eliza eventually sighed, tilting her head back as she rolled her shoulders. "So what'd'ya wanna talk about, then?"   
  
He tried to focus less on the nicotine induced buzz, and more on the actual purpose of talking to her out here as he managed to catch her eye. "I wanted to know if you'd go to Pandora with me."   
  
Eliza blinked at him, her features remaining the same, as if he'd never opened his mouth. "What?"   
  
"I said- I mean, I'm  _ asking _ , if you would be willing to come to Pandora with me. I gotta admit, I can't exactly just appear down there and expect to have my charm and dastardly good looks see me through. In fact, it's those exact things that'll probably end up getting me killed if I go alone. And... I want someone I trust to have my back."   
  
He knew the way her brow furrowed meant she was thinking, and thinking deeply, her gaze averted as she looked back over the side of the balcony. "To... Pandora? Leave Elpis? Me?" She was muttering, and Timothy knew it was to herself, and not actually to him. But a pained look crossed her face that made him frown as something seemed to cross her mind. "What... what about Pickle?"   
  
Eliza didn't even look up at him when she threw that curveball at him. How lucky was he to have the wall at his back. What about Pickle indeed. Tim couldn't exactly say he had forgotten about the kid- but he certainly hadn't had him at the forefront of his thoughts when he had started making mental notes for preparations. "I..." He couldn't even begin to think of what to say to that. And when Eliza finally looked up, she knew that she didn't exactly have an answer either.   
  
"What are you going to tell him? Once you're there, he won't even be able to echo you... what if he gets hurt down there? What if... what if he decides he wants to come back to the surface? And we're not 'ere?"   
  
They were all legitimate points, and concerns. Timothy couldn't exactly ignore the waver in her voice as she rattled off more possibilities. "well- hey, slow down. Okay, Dahl gave us, what?  720 hours- that's like a month, right? We have near enough a month before they actually expect us to even make contact with the Vault Hunters on Pandora. I can get a relay setup, so that the entire time we're down there, if Pickle tries to echo me, it'll go straight through to my comm. And hey- it'll only be Pandora- if he's got anything he needs to say, anything about wanting a way to the surface- hell, Elpis will have three shiny new dropships that they'll be more than happy utilize-  _ especially _ for him. He's the martyr of Theta, remember? The saviour destined to return, or whatever the hell the latest legend is that's going around." He hoped to throw a bit of humour around, lighten the mood as Eliza seemed on the verge of tearing up, even just a little bit. "If he needs us, we can get to him, okay?"   
  
She managed a small smile, but ultimately went back to a deep frown as she pulled her fingers up through her hair, brushing it back off her face, only to have most of her fringe fall back down across her forehead. "Can you make me a promise, Lawrence?"   
  
Swallowing thickly, Tim moved away from the wall, walking towards the edge of the balcony. He kept his eyes on Eliza though as he flicked the burnt out cigarette butt of the side. He stood to her left, eyes eventually trailing out across the open tundra, then up towards the starry sky. "Can I hear it out first, or do you want me bound by my word regardless?"   
  
"I mean... I don't really fink it's some'fin you'll disagree wif... but still, I do fink I'd prefer the latter."   
  
Tim nodded, exhaling slowly as he considered, nodding again. "Alright... I promise, Eliza. Whatever it is, I'll do my best."   
  
"Thank you." There was a pause, and Tim briefly wondered if she was even going to tell him what he had just promised too. "I want you to protect him. If Pickle ever gets out of this hole he's crammed his bottle and glass ass into, I want you by his side- I don't care if I'm there- I don't care what happens to me at all, honest- I just want someone watchin' his back, and I want it to be you, Tim. He deserves as much, so I want you to be there for him, and if it comes to it- I expect you to even give your life if you 'ave too. Screw Hyperion, screw Dahl, screw Elpis. I want him to be your top priority."   
  
Tim leaned away from her, giving her a long look. "Are you serious- oh, oh you are serious. Holy shit." She shot him an icy look, making it clear that she was in no way joking.   
  
"I know I ain't the best with wordin' this- but I fink you know what I'm gettin' at. It's like you said- I really do have a lot of guilt on my shoulders; but I also have a lack of any conscious when it comes to doin' the right thing. I can't help it- I've tried doing the right thing before- you know how that went- so, at least when I'm doing the wrong thing, I know what the outcome will be. You, though- you know what doin' the right thing is all about. You didn't become the 'ero of Elpis by being the bad guy. And that's who I need watching my little brother's back. Someone I know won't 'urt him- someone I know that at the very least, I can trust. And it pains me to say it, but I do trust you, Tim."   
  
It was quite the little speech, and Tim knew that on some level- she was bullshitting him. He knew for a fact she didn't trust him at all. He knew that she knew just as well as he did, that he was in no way a hero. Didn't want to be, and never would be. But what he did believe was that Eliza was capable of guilt, and that she was probably under the belief that nothing she could ever do would redeem her, so she wanted Tim in the hot seat, doing what she didn't believe herself capable of. And honestly? Tim could understand that. Could even respect her for that. Which all led him to his answer. "Alright. Like I said, I promise. If Pickle ever gets out of his kraggon-hole, I'll have his back for you."   
  
He kind of expected her to get mad about the way he worded that last part, but instead   
she only smiled. Nothing big, just the smallest upturn of her lip. "Then to Pandora, you and me, eh?"   
  
"Sounds like a nightmare waiting to start, but hell yeah."   



	17. Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, y'all still here? Reading this? That's dedication at its finest my dudes. One final big thank you to my artists, my beta, and just gosh thanks to everyone this was a wild ride to write, I hope it made a good read too!!! 
> 
> And keep an eye out for the rest of the series if you enjoyed it!

_ “Gayly bedight, _

_ A gallant knight, _

**_In sunshine and in shadow,_ **

_ Had journeyed long, _

_ Singing a song, _

**_In search of Eldorado_ ** _.” _

\- “ Eldorado ” by Edgar Allan Poe -

  
  


Most of the time, he didn't know where he was. Occasionally he would snap back and recognize the Kraggon’s Grove surrounding him despite the displaced rocks littering the area- but no, mostly he just drifted, his mind buzzing as his body felt weightless yet heavy; numb, but hypersensitive. Beneath him was rock, but he felt further down than that, following along worked out tunnels by torks and other subterranean creatures the slithered and skittered throughout the moon, all the way down to its core where he could follow along something more sturdy than crawl-ways created by insects- and instead feel as though he was walking the corridors created by the ancient Eridians. He knew his position within the moon now at least. The Vault of Sentinel was connected to the planet's core, of course, but it stretched and opened to the otherside of the planet from him- but where he was, where he was-

Pickle snapped back to himself with a gasp and a jolt- his thoughts scattering like they had been blown away by air leaked from a pressurized pipe. Breathing in and out, harshly, until he was coughing more than breathing, and his throat felt raw as he hacked and spit, pulling his knees to his chest before running his hands across his body.

Down his legs, across his arms, through his hair, even tracing his fingers around the sensitive flesh where his ports were. 

“My name is Davis Pickle. I am a singular person, born on the planet Persephone, but I live on the moon Elpis. I,” his voice faltered for a moment as he tried to remember how she had taught this to him. “I… helped the resistance against the Hyperion corporation. Hyperion captured me. I survived. I was branded Theta, and subjected to experimentation. I survived that too. I escaped their labs. I am now- I, I  _ was _ on the Drakensberg in hiding, but- no…”  _ Don't narrate, or go into detail, state facts like you're writing point form notes… _ “People from Dahl arrived. I left. I ended up here. I… I am Davis Pickle, a singular person. I live in the Forested Cavern beneath the surface of Elpis. And- an’ I am up the creek wifout any shoes...” Pickle muttered the last bit, gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“I'm Pickle- an’ come heck or high roads, I'll get frough this…” He exhaled a long sigh, “well, probably.”

He looked around, feeling tired and sore, but at the same time he felt on edge, overflowing with energy. A thousand thoughts started to ping around inside his head. From the fight with the stalkers, to what the Guardian had told him.

“ _ Ruins at midlight… _ ” he mumbled under his breath, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands, trying to ignore the brief onset of nausea as he tried to block out all manner of otherworldly feelings that came with being hopped up on eridium. Such as being acutely aware of the moon's constant rotation, and that some serious commotion was still happening on the surface. But with a bit of effort, he managed to focus his mind elsewhere.

_ “When those that travel far reunite, you will find the ruins at midlight.”  _ Saying it again still did very little in regards to making sense of it. They who? And where were they uniting at? The Cavern? How would that work? And if it were else where- why did it matter? And what about ‘midlight'? Was there even such a term?

The more he turned it over inside his head, the less it made sense, but it did bring up a faded memory, as well as a feeling he hadn't had the displeasure of feeling since he came to the Cavern. Not while awake, at least.

_ “Eridium holds many secrets. In some cultures, where they had no true name for the element yet, it was considered a powerful solution. Blood of the Creator- said to give the consumer knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. Had you been born on such a planet, raised there and given eridium, you very well might have been worshipped, perhaps even named a God.” _

_ “Why? I fought it was dangerous- that it killed lots of peoples when they took it-” _

_ “It did, yes. But you aren't like them, little one. I don't know how, or why, but you're like me. Different enough that no one will ever find out, but similar in a way that you have to be careful. Don't ever show anyone your marks, Davis. I mean it.” _

His mother had so rarely spoken of the planet she came from that all Pickle had really known was that it was from far out- that Elu came from a planet even further out than Pandora. He used to wonder about it. Whether he could see it if he hazed hard enough at the stars- that maybe it was little more than a speck, or maybe it was hidden away in the fog of some gaseous cluster.

He really hadn't seen the stars in such a long time….

In just a moment, he slipped, falling away from himself, just floating without thought, completely unaware aa he felt the moon roll beneath his corporeal form, shifting, air pockets bursting forth in various places across the great expanse of rock- heavy steps of a surface kraggon’s stomping gait that kicked up loose moondust, which floated before gently grazing the surface again. On small speck at a time. The rumble of something unnatural- the engine of an airship- the wheels of multiple moon buggies grinding up dust and leaving deep tracks in their wake. A shudder as something big- something huge- a slugorath broke from its icy cocoon, shaking a portion of the moon around it, smaller bodies; rathyds, bouncing off the natural rock formations as they beat their wings hastily moving themselves out of the way. His reach stretched thinner still, as he just barely caught the light pitter patter of footsteps- hundreds of kilometres away from where he was, but so  _ damn _ close-

In a heartbeat, Pickle was himself again, gasping air into his lungs as his fingernails dug into his scalp, his head crammed between his knees as he recited again.

“I am Davis… I'm Pickle. Born on Persephone. I live on Elpis. I- I… I,” he swallowed, clenching his jaw as he began rocking back and forth silently, unable to even get words out as he just breathed heavily.

Despite the eridium making him feel like he was shaking with pent up energy, he knew himself, and he knew he was running low on energy and the constant fight to stay in one piece was seriously beginning to wear him down. “Steady breaths, Pickle, steady even breaths, we got this,” he gently talked himself through it as he managed to drag himself to his feet. “We got this,” he repeated as he stumbled his way out of the Grove and through the Forest. Honestly, he couldn't even remember what had happened that had lead to him being separated from Aris. He just knew one moment they were in the meadow with the pillars and then Aris had been gone, and Pickle had been alone in the Kraggon’s Grove.

As much as that weighed upon him now, he was infinitely relieved to find the entire kraggon family safe and sound within their cave, completely unharmed, but likely just a touch rattled from the events of the day. A part of his chest knotted briefly as he entered, this time his slowness done on purpose so he wouldn't startle any of the kraggons. It was Tough he bristled at first, until she recognized the intruder as friend, not foe and settled back down beside Gentle in the nest, that had grown along with the 7 kraggons that were nearly at an age that would have them prepared to strike out on their own. They all mattered so much to him, but where had he been while the entire Cavern shook? He hadn't been anywhere near them- and even after, he had gotten lost in his own head when he should have come here, first and foremost. 

He felt horrible, that something terrible had happened, and where had he been? Certainly not here- and when Aris should have been with his family- the young kraggon had been with him- he couldn't even begin to ponder what he would do if he had come back to the cave and found something amiss. He opened his mouth to say something- anything, but the words caught in his throat, and the most he could get out was a garbled sound of distress; which honestly did more to get his current state of self across to the kraggons then any combination of words could have.

Pickle seemed to immediately find himself drawn into the nest, surrounded by semi-awake young kraggons and two tired mums who were just glad to have every one of their little ones safe and sound, and it  _ broke  _ him. How could they… be so open? So caring? Trustful? At times he felt like he was a complete stranger to them despite the passing months, yet he had never felt so close to calling a place home in such a long time. There were such sparse few places he could associate with the word ‘home'. Persephone had never been home to him- not even the dusty old college, or his parents’ little apartment, or the Dahl ship that had brought them to Elpis and housed them all for months. But being with his parents, squeezed tight in their arms- that had been home. Playing snatch-n-grab games with Eliza back on the streets of Persephone- that had felt like home. Sitting in Tim's office, cracking jokes, or just reading off one of the resistance’s latest stunts, in tears from laughter- that could’ve been home. And being in the barely put and held together school house back in Theta, playing teacher for the younger kids-  _ that had been home. _

All of these things were lost to him. Taken in one form, or another. But the feeling each memory filled him with, even if he couldn't remember most of the specifics, was strong enough for him to relate to it now, surrounded by the warmth of a family that for better or worse, accepted him as he was- even if they didn't actually know what that exactly was.

“I’m sorry… if I scared you, y'know. Or, worried you, I guess. Wasn’ my intention, y'know. I just… oh, I don' even know what I was finkin… not much, probably.” Pickle rambled, feeling Gentle place her head in his lap, before rubbing her cheek against his stomach, which he assumed was equal to a backwards pat on the back. “Yeah, I know… jus’.... thank you. Honest. You're the best family anyone could ask for.”

With that tension lifted from his shoulder he found himself drifting into a restful stupor rather easily, the warmth of the nest and the solid presence of the kraggons working as the perfect thing to keep him anchored as he rested for a while.

It must have been at the peak of the night cycle that he found himself wide awake, just enjoying the warmth and the comfort of being surrounded and admittedly somewhat crushed, by all the kraggons surrounding him. But he also had the urge to chat. To just talk and talk and talk, and he thought.. well, it was worth a shit wasn't it? What was the worst that could happen? He still wouldn't be able to get a signal and would then be forced to crawl back into the nest. A tragedy in the making.

He carefully removed himself from the mess of thick, heavy limbs and bodies and found his cozy corner where his knapsack, helmet, sleeping bag, and echo were all neatly tucked together.

He wondered for a moment if maybe he still wouldn't be able to get a signal from down here. That despite the quakes, there would still be too much interference, but a few moments passed and there was a flicker from his screen, static with the occasional burst of audio.  
  
" _H-_ ** _he_** _llo-_ ** _o_** _?"_  
  
Pickle sighed, nearly hanging up as he felt a sort of deja vu, recalling the sound of the Drakensberg's computer system.  
  
" _Pickle?"_ The image stabilized itself, video and audio both coming in with a surprising amount of quality. " _Hey, buddy, what... What'cha been up too?"_  
  
Tim looked... dusty. Like he just got back from rolling around on the ground or something, a thick but plain coloured scarf pulled tight around his neck and just peeking up over his chin that had gone at least three days since its last shave. "I, uh." Pickle blinked dumbly, somehow feeling incapable of making sounds that would form into words, his head still buzzing a bit. "Jus' been up to the usual." His voice crack disagreed, but he cleared his throat and asked, "wha' about you? You lookin' a bit... dusty," Pickle stated bluntly.  
  
" _Oh yeah... Just, y'know. Around, outside, enjoying a nice breath of air."_  
  
Pickle snorted. "Oh yeah, can't find a place wif better air quality than Elpis." His brow creased as he eyed Tim again. "Where's your OZ kit?"  
  
Tim opened and closed his mouth like the question had come completely out of nowhere. " _I- well, I mean, I am in an area currently that has air and all that. Uh..."_ His gaze shifted away, looking at his surroundings that were out of Pickle's own view. " _I'm actually pretty high up right now_ , " Tim tilted his head back, looking up, almost so that Pickle couldn't catch the slight clench in his jaw.  
  
"Why though? You don't like heights." In the back of his mind, he could just briefly recall the sight of Tim, sitting back on the rooftops of Concordia with a content half smile. But that had been a dream.  
  
The tightening was more than noticeable now as Tim tilted his head to one side, still looking up. " _The stars. Y'know, before we started Echoing, I never really thought about them much, but now, I dunno. Everything feels off when I look up and can't see them now, like something's missing."_  
  
Pickle snorted, "yeah, tell me about it."  
  
Timothy frowned before his lips formed a perfect 'o'. " _Right... sorry, that's my bad..."_  
  
"S' alright." It wasn't, but he didn't feel like getting into it today. Between the aftereffects of the eridium and the warmth of the kraggon nest, he was feeling incredibly content. "A' least I ain't the only one who knows to appreciate a good view when I got one."  
  
Tim nodded with a slight half smile before he shifted. " _Speaking of, you gotta look at the stars right now, 'cause they are shining tonight."_  
  
The echo flicked around before Pickle was able to actually see the sky which did seem a bit unusual looking at first until a thought sparked. He'd never seen the sky from this angle before. The constellations, the colourful clusters of gas, they were all new and completely different to him. "I'm sorry, what was that, I missed it?"  
  
" _Hm? Oh_ ," Tim cleared his throat before repeating, " _I said they're probably shining so bright 'cause they know you're looking so they wanna look their best for ya."_  
  
Pickle blinked at him with a completely blank expression. "That- that has to be one of the lamest fings you've ever said."  
  
Tim gave a dramatic wink before shaking his head with a chuckle. " _Trust me, I've said way lamer things- heck you can even ask... well..._ " His jaw clenched again before he let out a long sigh. " _Nevermind_."  
  
Pickle watched a broken expression cross the man's face as he looked skyward again. A collection of names came to Pickle's mind, all of which were, or could be, long dead. "Tim..." Pickle cleared his throat, trying to search for the right words, something comforting maybe? But the old Vault Hunter cut him off before he could even open his mouth again.  
  
" _So, uh, what's actually up, kid? You never echo me, except that one time you dropped your device in the middle of conversation- but other then that..."_  
  
Pickle chewed on the inside of his cheek as he wondered how to answer that. "I just... I-" his voice cracked, again, which was starting to become an incredible nuisance to him. "I fink there's a Vault down 'ere."  
  
Tim frowned at him, as if Pickle had spoke in a different language, before he took on a more critical stance. " _Wait- seriously? Like... An actual Vault? Or like the Sentinel?"_  
  
Pickle swallowed, shaking his head. "No- no not the Sentinel, a completely different Vault. I- I don't know specifics, but... Come on, why else would this place exist? And- and the eridium, that Guardian, the meadow with the pillars and that damn table thing and the damn eridium that's- it's everywhere, Tim, and I know, I know it's here, there's something here-" he was rambling nonsensically at this point, the growing tension twisting like a double ended knife in his stomach as he felt his barriers slipping, felt the turning and the tremors of the moon all around him. "Something... something here..."  
  
_"Okay, starshine, you're gonna have to slow down, and calm down too, you're gettin' a little worked up there,"_ Tim paused, making sure that he had Pickle's attention before he continued, " _alright, good, keep breathing, kid. Okay? Now how certain are you about there being a Vault down there? Because- and I'm just putting this out_ _there- it doesn't seem likely that there would two Vaults beneath Elpis' surface. The Vault of the Sentinel was huge, Pickle. A damn biggen'."_  
  
He nodded quietly, knowing that the sudden shift in his certainty was a shock; even to himself. "I know it seems unlikely, but I... I'm a hundred percent here, Tim. I know there's a Vault down here. And it ain't the Vault of the Sentinel."  
  
It was a few seconds before Tim finally sighed, muttering something under his breath about what great timing Pickle had with all this. " _Shit, kid."_  
  
"Look, it ain't like... I'm not..." Pickle didn't know why he felt the need to explain himself for saying anything. Tim was a Vault Hunter, so honestly, Pickle had expected him to be excited, or at least interested in the possibility of there being another Vault on Elpis.  
  
" _Look, whatever's down there, just be careful, alright? Maybe- maybe you're mistaken. Eridian ruins and stuff can pop up all over the place- they don't necessarily mean there's a Vault- and_ _for fucks' sake if you even think you see a Guardian stay as far as fuck away from it as you can."_  
  
Pickle knew now probably wasn't the time to laugh, but he snorted anyways. _Too bloody late for that_ , he thought. "Tim-"  
  
" _I'm serious, Pickle_."  
  
"No one said you wasn't, it's just... I mean, oh, I dunno..." Pickle sucked on his teeth as he considered his next sentence. "Ain't Vaults full of valuables, y'know? I mean, I don't mean to come off as opportunistic, but I bet'cha anyfin there'd be some pretty shiny fings... in there..." he trailed off, his expression darkening as he narrowed his eyes critically, whatever ploy he had in mind disappearing from importance.  
  
"Tim... Is- is that Elpis?" He didn't need to phrase it like a question- he already knew the answer. In seconds, everything seemed to change as he looked back and forth between the man that stumbled for an answer and the blatantly obvious moon over his shoulder. "You- you left me."  
  
Tim's brow creased in distress, " _hey, Pickle- it's not_ \- "  
  
"No- no, you _left_ \- were you even going to say anyfing? At all?! What- _why?_ What if- what if somefin happened to you? I-" he could feel his heart rate spiking just at the thought- but the reactions on Tim face soon replaced panic with something closer to anger.  
  
" _Listen, kid, it's not that simple, I had a lot going on all at once- i couldn't keep tracking of everything and it's not like I left without make sure there was a way for us to keep in contact-"_  
  
"You still could've said somefin!" Pickle responded to the man's anger with his own- feeling as though his was a bit more called for then the Doppelganger's. "It takes more than a couple hours to go all the way to anovver planet- and even then, you should've said somefin instead of tryin to make me fink you were still here!"  
  
The Doppelganger's mouth opened and closed, his expression growing more and more frustrated. " _You're not exactly being fair_ -"  
  
"How am I not being fair? All I'm asking is not to be lied to!" and then there it was, almost an exact replica of the expression Pickle had given him when he said to stay away from any Guardians.  
  
_Too bloody late for that._  
  
" _Pickle- just listen to me, please- everything is all over the place, I can hardly keep track anymore and- for fucks sake I'm only human."_  
  
He couldn't help but scoff at that. " _Only human_ ," he repeated with something close to a sneer before he just shook his head, hus expression turning stoic. "Sorry, _Jack_ , can't relate." _Oh, that is such a low blow._  
  
The Doppelganger couldn't even get another word in before Pickle disconnected, holding the echo out from him before letting it fall with a resounding clatter to the cave floor. The noise didn't seem to bother any of the sleeping kraggon's; only one or two of them huffing or kicking before settling again.  
  
He had the urge to just sit there and sink within himself, and just drift- but instead he rose to his feet and began pacing, dragging his hands through his hair as he tried not to cry.  
  
Tried really hard.  
  
And it worked. About a minute into his pacing, he kind of just... went numb.   
  
Until his echo started to go off. Which created a new spark of anger that manifested into Pickle kicking the damn thing so hard it went flying out of the mouth of the cave, a tork chittering in shock as it was caught upside the top by the device.  
  
Which at the very least made Pickle stop his senseless pacing, standing in place while ringing his hands together. He refused to ponder on what would've happened if he had answered the echo. If he actually listened to hear what excu- what _reason_ Tim had for not saying anything... maybe, just maybe-   
  
"No, stop that. I'm not finkin about it. I don't care, I don't care what his excuse is. It's done wif, and it doesn't matter." He was back to pacing, but quietly. Taking small steps, round and round in a circle as he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth.  
  
But eventually just doing that got on his nerves, so he stopped stomping around, surprised to find himself facing an opening in the rock wall he honestly hadn't noticed in... Well, it had been at least month now, hadn't it? It was the same dark, somewhat eerie, passageway that lead to freaky table thing. He couldn't even be sure why he was thinking of it now, as he retraced his steps down the passage, his left hand just lightly scraping against the rock as the ceiling jellies from before still just barely lighting his way with their soft lilac glow.  
  
A part of him was actually surprised that the dais was still there, the eridium pulsing almost warmly throughout the stone. However this time, running his hand across the stone didn't leave his fingers bleeding. In fact, the rock was smooth beneath his fingertips. But it was only a few seconds of that before he pulled away, shaking his head.  
  
"What in heck am I even doing anymore," it wasn't really a question, considering there wasn't really an answer if it had been. Sighing, he leaned forward, placing his hands down on the stone as he shook his head, the sensation in his chest flaring up yet again. "What? What do you want from me?"  
  
He was so tired of this. Of never having an answer for what was going on around him; or to him for that matter. And now, here was one of his most long lasting ailments, back to pester him. He made a noise in the back of his throat before he settled down onto the dais, laying with his back against the stone, staring up, just like before. "Is this it? Want me to just lay here? Yes? No?"  
  
Pickle huffed out a sigh, and spent the next twenty minutes of his life rolling around on the stone slab, trying to ignore the pinch in his chest and how genuinely uncomfortable the stone was. "Probably... should've grabbed my sleeping bag," he yawned, finally letting out one last defeated sigh, and figuring that this was it. He was just going to spend the rest of his life in a hole beneath the moon's surface chasing unscientific feelings in his chest. Which sounded a lot more romantic than it was.  
  
Luckily, shortly after resigning to his fate, he found sleep. Or perhaps sleep found him? Meh, tomatoes, potatoes- it's all the same thing.  
  
\--*--*--  
  
He was in the meadow again, but the ground showed no sign of damage- not from the pillars crumbling or the stalkers he and Aris had taken on. But the pillars were far from look whole again- instead the shattered bits of rock hung suspended from their counterparts like pieces of a puzzle that hadn't been put together just yet, a violet glow emanating from the cracks in the stone.  
  
Davis did not stand in the center. But only because of the altar that was already centered perfectly, and holding nothing more than a deep bowl of dark liquid. That was certainly new.  
  
"Why am I here again?"  
  
"Again?"  
  
He jumped, spinning around and stumbling backwards at the sight of her entering the clearing. She looked the same as she had the last he had seen her. Hair pulled to the side so her ponytail hung down over her shoulder, and her fringe just long enough that it swept over her right eye.  
  
"Do you recognize this place?"  
  
If she noticed his unease, she didn't show it, as she moved towards him, reaching a hand out, likely to brush his hair out of his face, but before her fingers could reach him, he recoiled.  
  
"You're dead."

She looked sad for no longer than a second before lacing her own finger together and letting her hands hang in front of her.    
  
"You're not wrong about that."   
  
"So this is a dream?"   
  
One of her brows arched, like he was asking a silly question. "Does it feel like a dream?"   
  
He hesitated. "No. But I'm not awake, am I? You're not... not really here. Are you?"   
  
A ghost of a smile, then a shrug. "What do you think, Davis?"   
  
He stepped back from her again, bumping into the altar before remaining with his back pressed against the edge of it. "I fink you need to stop playing mind games, Angel."   
  
That gave her pause, before she tilted her head silently, reaching a hand out again, and this time he turned his head, waiting for whatever his mind would try to substitute the sensation for. But the moment her fingertips brushed across his cheek his eyes widened. It was real. Completely, and entirely, his skin tingling where she'd touched him, and a chill running up his back as she brushed her hand through his hair, stopping just above his hairline, just above his ports.   
  
Davis looked down to where Angel had put her other hand against his, squeezing his fingers as he realized how warm her hands were. "But-" he choked, tears already pouring from his eyes as she pulled him against her, wrapping him in the first hug he'd had from another person in years. " _ How?" _   
  
She didn't respond- which was probably for the best, since there was no way Davis could have heard her over his own sobs as he clung to her like a lifeline. For a while they stood like that, before she slowly brought him to the ground, where they sat, Angel more or less cradling him in her lap as he slowly managed to get a hold of himself again. It wasn't until he had settled to a steadier inhale and exhale with the occasional sniffle that she finally spoke again.   
  
"The interesting thing about my phaseshift ability, is that it allowed me to leave myself behind. Hooked up to enough machines, I could go anywhere at any time through the echonet. I could shift through the data and codes as easily as walking through an empty room. If I hadn't known the first thing about code though, I doubt that it would have meant much, since I wouldn't have understood any of it. Which is what happened with eridium.   
  
"For the longest time... I thought she was crazy. The idea that eridium had the answer to anything sounded ridiculous- but just like with all those machines, I realized I could shift through it, that I could follow along the tubes that pumped it around all the way to the source- and from there, anywhere the eridium went, I could go.    
  
“But I couldn't do anything else with it. Because unlike code, I couldn't understand it. I couldn't decipher any of the information being presented to me- and before I could try, I was pumped so full of the stuff... it ruined me. I don't know if it was too much too soon, but I think, if I'd been given it, bit by bit..."   
  
"That would have destroyed you too." He whispered, laying his head back against her shoulder. "Little by little, and you wouldn't have noticed until it was too late."   
  
"You seem to be doing alright."   
  
"Yes well, haven't you heard? I'm Pickle the Invincible."   
  
"Oh please, no one calls you that."   
  
"Well how would you know? You've been dead for years." He hoped the lightness in his tone would make it clear he wasn't trying to be offensive- but at the same time, he couldn't be sure if it was just inherently offensive to remind someone that they were dead.   
  
Luckily, she laughed. Which had been a rare sound even when she had still been kicking. "Has it really been years?"   
  
"Mm. Nearly two now, I fink."   
  
"Well, I'm glad for you then."   
  
For a time, that was all, before Davis couldn't help but ask. "So what is this then? You mentioned eridium, but how does this tie in to that? If you're really... If you're really dead, then what is this?"   
  
She went quiet, and it wasn't until Davis twisted his head around that he caught the contemplative look on her face. "I guess you could say... This is like an echo, an interactive echo. But with an echo, you can save it, pause it, replay it- but this... This is a one time thing, Davis. And I'm sorry that it's even happening in the first place, because you're right- I am dead, coming back like this must hurt you more than I could imagine. But... At the time, I don't know... On one hand, I don't believe I thought this would work... All I can say is, I'm sorry I'm putting you through this."   
  
He let out a small breath, resting back against her again. "S' not so bad. I mean, it does kind of mess wif my wooden bed head, but generally speaking, I'm kind of glad I get this one last goodbye. As bizarre as it is."   
  
She hummed, placing her cheek against the top of his head as she gave him a squeeze. "Still as sweet as ever."   
  
He snorted, tensing up his shoulders and pouting. "Am not."   
  
She laughed again, and Davis wondered if maybe it was her state of unattached sentience that finally allowed her to have such openness, when before... Before she barely even smiled at all. Silence hung in the air as Davis found himself staring at nothing, silently enjoying the quiet comfort of another person's presence while Angel ran her fingers through his hair.   
  
"So... where I am now... It doesn't directly have anything to do wif you, does it? You were just trying to... Trying to fulfil a purpose so to speak, and that just so happened to end up dragging me down here?"   
  
Her hand paused it's movement in his hair for a moment, before she started twirling strands around her fingers meticulously. "Down where?"   
  
"The- the Cavern? Um, the big hole deep under the moon's surface?"   
  
She paused again. Then he felt her straighten behind him. "Wait you're where? Are you actually underground?"   
  
"Y- yeah? I mean, it just sort of happened, but... Yeah."   
  
"That- something like that doesn't just.. happen, Davis."   
  
"Well no, but I mean... Y'know I was feeling that pull- that now I know was just you- but it kind of stopped for a while after I got here so.... I dunno, I figured it was some sort of Fate shenanigans, actually. Like maybe the Guardian was doing something, but I guess since the entire Cavern is full of eridium deposits, that's probably it."   
  
"I- what?" She pulled back, forcing Davis to move himself around until he was sitting on the ground facing her. "A Guardian? Like an Eridian Guardian?"   
  
"Yes...? I mean, I kind of assume they're here ‘cause of the Vault, but-"    
  
"The Vault?"   
  
"Yes- not the Sentinel, a different one. Smaller, I fink. And... I dunno, the Guardian made it sound like... Like there was some sort of time restraint, had a whole rhyme- or riddle, or what have you." Davis's eyes travelled from Angel as he noticed a shift in the surrounding area, the glow of the pillars more noticeable, and the altar at the center seemed to almost blink in and out of sight, occasionally being replaced with something shorter but wider... Like the table he was... "Angel?"   
  
She looked paler as she placed a hand to her forehead, the brushing it back through her hair, avoiding her... her head ports hadn't been there before, but now they were plainly obvious. "I'm sorry... Like I said, this is... kind of like an echo- interactive, but I guess, only to certain degrees... this is a lot to process."   
  
He nodded, not entirely sure what kind of toll this might be taking on her, but he reached out nonetheless, placing his hands on her shoulders and giving them the firmest squeeze he could muster, leaning forward so his forehead was against the top of her head as she hung her head with her eyes pressed shut.   
  
It was a few moments before she opened her eyes again, the colour in them nearly nonexistent. They were a sorry pale blue in comparison to the bright sapphire they'd been when she was alive. "If this too much for you, Angel, you can let go, y'know." He swallowed thickly, feeling apprehensive towards letting her go, but the last thing he ever wanted was to force her to do anything, especially something that could cause her even slight discomfort.   
  
She laughed at that. An almost sad kind of snicker. "I feel like it should be the other way around. Shouldn't I be telling you it's okay to let go? That despite everything, there's still hope, and that even though I'm gone, I'll always be there?"   
  
He gave her a thin smile. "I don't fink this is one of those kinds of stories, Angel."   
  
"Mm. A damn shame," she replied with an attempt at replicating his accent.   
  
"Oh yeah, totally." He deadpanned in an attempt at her own.   
  
They snickered, and Davis finally sat back, giving her room to stretch out her arms as her expression become its usual stoic look. "I should be alright for a little while longer. Good news for you, once this... Expires, so to speak, you won't have to worry about any of, that," she gestured vaguely at his chest. "Seeing as this is a one time thing entirely. There's no more... echos hiding around."   
  
He nodded quietly, seeing no reason to speak since she seemed to have more to say.   
  
"But... It makes sense. In a weird kind of way. That I- that you would be brought somewhere like what you described. Another Vault hidden on Elpis though... That's a little surprising..." She paused before looking at him. "Are you going to do it?"   
  
He frowned. "Do what?"   
  
"Hunt the Vault."   
  
"Oh... well, I don't really have much else going on for me. Feelin' a bit reckless besides."   
  
She nodded slowly, before giving him a small smile. "You're going to make an extraordinary Vault Hunter, Davis."   
  
"Really? You fink? I always fought I was never good in a fight, y'know."   
  
"Well, strategy is the most important factor in my opinion."   
  
"Yes but my strategy solely consists of getting someone else to fight for me."   
  
"Well, best of luck." She shrugged before cracking a smile. "Worst comes to worse, I'll be seeing you in the afterlife. Assuming that such a place exists."   
  
"Mm, can't wait to find out." He replied sarcastically. He could feel the shift in the area around him again, Angel's eyes fluttering before she leaned forward, head resting on his shoulder. "This is it then, yeah?"   
  
She was silent for a time before she managed to lift a hand to his forearm, giving it a tight squeeze, or as tight as her weakening grip would let her. "It is. I..."   
  
"You don't apologize, Angel. Fings might not 'ave been the best for the most part but... I'm still glad that of all the people I could 'ave been trapped wif, it was you."   
  
"I... I could've been better, you know that- I should've been-"   
  
"It don't matter now, Angel. You did wha' you fought you 'ad too; and that's good enough for me. Now just… jus’ say goodbye this time."   
  
She sniffled, giving him one last pained look before exhaling slowly. "Goodbye, Davis." She whispered in his ear as she pulled him into a bruising embrace, which he was more than happy to reciprocate.   
  
"Goodbye, Angel." He managed to get out before swallowing thickly, feeling the tears well up behind his eyelids as he buried his face against her neck one last time. "I'll miss you."   
  
"You'd better," she teased, pulling back, rubbing her thumb against his cheek as she gave him one more sad look. He leaned forward, just close enough to rub the tip of his nose against her's- just like his mum use to do to him when he'd been a child. Of course Angel only gently scoffed, sighing "silly boy," under her breath before pressing her lips to his forehead and then asking, "What was that saying again? You always mentioned using it when you were with the resistance..."   
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep his voice from wavering too much as he recalled.

“Non omnis moriar.”

“ _ Non omnis moriar _ …” she repeated, “fitting.”

 

He bit back a wince when he felt a forceful pull from within his chest, and then nothing. Except for the lasting ghost of the feeling of her hand in his face, a tingling trail across his cheek that stayed with him even when his eyes opened to the bland view of the stone ceiling. He let out a long, shaky breath as he tried to touch his hands to his face- but only one hand seemed capable of doing so. Turning his head, he found his right arm bound by the vines of a small, but surprisingly resilient, indigo glowing mushroom.    
  
Deciding it was probably best not to harm the possibly sentient planet, he carefully pried his forearm free, arching a brow at the deep squish marks in his arm, as well as at least a dozen small dots where the vines had broken skin. Let's just assume this had something to do with what just happened and hope I don't die from some kind of weird mushroom poisoning...   
  
That seemed reasonable.   
  
And now, for a second time, Pickle came stumbling out of the side passage into an empty cave. This time though, he wasn't bothered by it; the soft glow from the entrance telling him it was just getting to early light. The kraggons would be out doing any multitude of things which was just the thing he needed right now, as he headed over to his little corner and started to pack up his things. Tucking everything away into their designated places in his knapsack. Everything except the red scarf that he was pleasantly surprised to find he hadn't forgotten on back on the Drake. That, he put on, tucking it snugly beneath his suit.    
  
Luckily, there was less to pack up then there had been to unpack, so by the time he was done, there would be room for other things. He wasn't sure what other things he would need room for, but it was there anyways.   
  
His gun was put in its holster on his left hip, his last few ammo clips in place along his right side with his remaining grenade. In the pocket opening along the center seam, but laying over his left breast, he made sure he still had his worn family photograph, a shelled bullet, and an empty lighter that had been in his possession for so long he forgot where it had actually come from. But it had a Tediore logo on it, so he assumed if he threw it hard enough it would probably explode. Finally, with everything packed, and his knapsack slung over his shoulder, he had one more place to stop to pick up two last things.   
  
In the Kraggon's Grove he found his helmet, and the staff, both of which were thankfully untouched by the local wildlife. Speaking of wildlife, the kraggon family were in the Grove as well, all of them watching him curiously as he picked up the helmet and staff wordlessly, before turning to face the mums.   
  
"You've been real good to me, and... Who knows? Maybe I'll be back. Maybe this is just a short farewell. But... This is something, something that I've got to do." Pickle didn't expect them to understand his words, but he knew his sentiment had gotten across by the change in Tough and Gentle's body language. He was leaving, they knew that much. They also knew he was going to miss them. And he knew they would miss him.   
  
And that was enough for all of them. He gave each and every kraggon a long embrace, and a heartfelt farewell, except Ari, who refused to even let Pickle embrace them. But who also refused to stay behind when Pickle began his journey to the far end of the Cavern, following like they always did, just a half step behind. For the first time since the kraggon had been born, Pickle didn't know what Aris was thinking, but he was thankful for the company. Even if it was a silently brooding behemoth that growled at every bush that rustled.

Only when they came to a thinning in the treeline did Aris give pause, making a soft call that informed Pickle that the kraggon had even stopped. “Aris?”

The kraggon sniffed the air in front of Pickle until he took the hint and stepped back towards them, who then immediately rubbed their cheek to his, sniffing again and making a sound similar to a gurgled coo. Pickle placed a hand against the side of the kraggon’s head, patting them gently as he forced a smile. “Aris, you silly fing. You know I'm gonna miss you, too.”

Aris licked at his cheek as they pulled away, pausing briefly just an inch from Pickle's face, to which Pickle found himself yet again rubbing noses. Of course this time, the other then decided to drag their tongue up over his face.

“Oh- Aris, that's-  _ eww _ .” Pickle sputtered, putting his helmet down to wipe his face off in his sleeve. “Thank you, really. You’ve been the best companion anyone could ask for.” Then, with a softer voice and a gentle smile he pressed his forehead against the top of the kraggon's head. “You be good now, Aris. And just between us- I'm gonna miss you the most.”

 

 

By the time he finally parted with Aris, it was full on what he would consider midlight. And before he fully emerged from the place of blue trees and dry grass, he already started to see signs of what the Guardian may have been referring to as ruins. Smooth stones that were cracked, and showing signs of age as slate grass grew between the broken pieces, even a few stumps of where there might have been pillars once. A final thick bustle of trees to push through, and he knew he was going in the right direction. Mostly because directly beyond the line of tightly knit trees he could see the large archway that could only have been the entrance to a Vault.

Of course by large, he meant he was surprised he’d never noticed it before, considering it started from ground level and stretched just about five meters short from the ceiling of the Cavern. And about as wide. Except not, because it was- oh, think reversed V shape.That was the entrance to the Vault.

“ _ You are early _ .”

He stopped what felt like a safe distance from the Vault, turning to find the Guardian had landed noiselessly beside him. Or perhaps they had been there the whole time. He didn't know. He looked up towards the Cavern ceiling, “looks to me like it's midlight. Maybe these travellers are just late.”

He looked back toward the Guardian, who stood perfectly still. “ _ Perhaps _ .”

The silence that followed was awkward to say the least. But after clearing his throat, Pickle asked, “so these are the ruins, that's the Vault- what happens now?”

“ _ Now, you open the Vault.” _ The Guardian replied simply, beginning to move toward the Vault, taking their own staff from their back and giving it an impressive twirl as they moved.

“Right…” Pickle cleared his throat again, following a half step behind, gripping hism battle helmet in one hand, and his own staff in the other, not feeling cocky enough to try swinging it around.

Before the actual Vault was a different, smaller archway, built from the same eridium infused stone as the pillars from the Guardian's meadow. Which is what he decided to call it as of that exact moment. But that aside, he hesitated for a moment before following the Guardian through the smaller archway, looking over his shoulder one last time, knowing that there would be no turning back from here.

Stepping over the threshold, his breath hitched as he felt a rush that lasted only until he was on the other side where the Guardian stood waiting. Their empty hand-like appendage gestured towards what looked like a dais, made of the same rock, until the very top which was pure eridium stone. 

Pickle looked from the Guardian to the stone, then back at the Guardian. “What? Use words, I don't read minds.”

“ _ Open the Vault _ .”

He looked back at the dais, with a brow arched. “Right, yeah, that makes sense. Absolutely.” Slipping his knapsack off, he placed his helmet down beside it, but still kept his staff in one hand as he moved towards the dais. “So I just… stick my hand on it? Or… I dunno, I don't ‘ave to lick it, do I?” Eridium crystals did have a strange allure about them that made them seem incredibly edible, but he in no way actually wanted to chomp down on one.

“ _ Your hand will suffice _ .”

Pickle nearly placed his hand down before realizing he still had his suit’s gloves on. Taking the left off (awkwardly, as he still refused to put the staff down) he hesitated again, with his palm hovering over the stone. “Are you sure you can't do this or something?”

“ _ If you are having second thoughts-” _

“No, no… I… like I said,” he started quietly. “I don't exactly have much else going on for me right now… so I may as well just,  _ go for it _ .”

And like that, he slammed his hand down on the rock, feeling the same loss of breath as when he had stepped over the threshold.

Then… nothing.

Nothing happened.

Until light burst from the Vault entrance, the entire Cavern shaking as every vein of eridium in the rocks and stone around the area flared brightly, and a loud, hair-raising hiss emanated from within the deepest part of the Vault.

The Vault of the Ascendant.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art featured in this chapter courtesy of http://sidepac.tumblr.com


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